The Torture of Time
by Writ-in-Fire-and-Ice
Summary: One world ends and another begins because of a simple wish. Back to the beginning, with a few memories. Their last chance... Can they get it right this time? Time Travel - ish. Currently going through a rewrite. First four chapters completed.
1. One's Goodbye

_**Author's Note**__: Welcome to the rewritten prologue/first chapter of The Torture of Time. My long absence has very many excuses, but I won't trouble you with them. Instead, enjoy the beginning of a much better version._

_A note on the origins of this story, it was inspired after one too many (insert Supernatural force here) intervenes. So do keep that grain of salt with you._

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><p><em>Breathing comes in pairs, except for twice<em>

_one begins and one's goodbye_

_-The Fray, Enough For Now_

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><p>Hope was lost and had been for years. There was simply no one left to have hope. Smoking ruins of famous places and ashes of famous people were the new scenery. It wasn't just the famous or the best or even the vaguely important. It was everybody and everything.<p>

In a small clearing surrounded by dead, forbidding trees, a small tree hung to life by a leaf, and a boy struggled to stand. Across the clearing a madman smirked.

"And now Potter, I've saved the most painful for last. Perhaps I should make her suffer..." Harry's temper was set aflame, but his usual reactions had been discarded after months and years of the same thing. Instead, he gathered the last dregs of his Gryffindor courage and hobbled over to a huddled mass in the middle of the clearing. With his support, a broken Hermione Granger stood.

"I'm done with your games, Tom."

"The-Boy-Who-Lived begging for death. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he said with a smirk and a twirl of his wand.

"Yeah, you've won. Woo-fucking-hoo," Harry started quietly, voice slowly rising, "But what have you won? Nothing. Not a single reward. You've left the biggest cities all the way down to the smallest backwoods shack in ruins. You've killed everyone, including those who pledged their wands to your service. But to what end? You may be king of everything, but there's nothing left for you to rule over." This Harry James Potter closed his eyes for the last time.

If he could be given a last a wish, he knew it would be to go back and fix the string of tragedies that had led to this. Centuries of wizards have underestimated the power of the dying wish of strong witch or wizard. All that power _needs_ to go somewhere... It had been Lily and James Potter's will and magic that had saved him on that night years ago, and now...

Voldemort never had done well with being mocked or ridiculed, and his response was the same as always, "_AVADA KEDARVA!_" A swirl of blue and silver of unknown origins interrupted the green beam. To his utter frustration it seemed Harry Potter had escaped his grasp for the final time as there was no trace of the Golden Duo left. As he fumed, the universe began to fade around him. Second by second and moment by moment time dissolved. (Not So) Slowly, it shrunk down to the Milky Way galaxy, and the stars went out.

Eventually even Earth's listless twin, Venus, slipped out of existence.

As the Earth itself vanishes, a whispers into the darkness, "Help will always be given at Hogwarts for those who ask for it." Those immortal words echoed around the clearing as Voldemort looked confusedly about.

"Show yourself_!_" he shrieked into the vanishing night.

"Time makes fools of you all," With this the clearing and its shrieking madman faded leaving only a soft blue glow and a laugh.


	2. Every Plan Turns Another Century

_**Author's Note**__: Welcome to the rewritten first chapter of The Torture of Time. My long absence has very many excuses, but I won't trouble you with them. Instead, enjoy the beginning of a much better version._

_A note on the origins of this story, it was inspired after one too many (insert Supernatural force here) intervenes. So do keep that grain of salt with you._

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><p><em>It all began with a man and country<em>

_every plan turns another century around again_

_Another nation fallen_

_-The Fray "Say When"_

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><p>When Harry Potter opened his eyes, it was dark. Having the vaguest memory of King's Cross as the beginning of his afterlife, that should have been his first clue that something was up. It wasn't, but given the turn of events –<p>

"UP! Get up! _NOW!_" Oh, wait, he knew exactly where he was. It was the narrator lacking the facts. Absently, as Harry swiped a spider off his sock, he wondered on the subject of time travel. This was nothing like his third year when he... when he...

"Don't you dare let the bacon burn! I want everything perfect for my Duddy's birthday." Well, he guessed he had an excuse for not remembering the pig in a wig's birthday now. If only he could make sense of his jumbled memories as easily.

The rest of morning passes as most did in the Dursley household (ignoring Dudley's fit over the presents, but then again he threw similar fits all the time..). Harry didn't particularly care other than it giving him a chance to wolf down all the bacon without the Dursley's noticing.

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><p>Thanks to the now neighbourhood famous zoo incident, it was deep into the summer holidays before Harry saw the light of day. (Alright that was a bit of exaggeration, they did let him out to go to school at least.) The major upside was the large amount of time he got to spend thinking. He still remembered the almost useless spell that had been used to teach him wandless magic. The reason for its uselessness stemmed from the fact that if anything was important enough for you to check if it had wards; it probably had wards, and you'd be better off checking what <em>type<em> of wards.

He needed the practice anyway. Unfortunately, the result jarred him too much for further practice. There wasn't a single Merlin-be-damned ward. Whether that meant Dumbledore's precious blood wards had failed or wards hadn't been added until later, Harry didn't care. He'd had enough of the old fool's games and plots for ten lifetimes, thank you very much. He'd be leaving as soon as he got his hands on his Hogwarts acceptance letter.

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><p>Harry thought for he'd explode before he ever got his letter. Luckily for him (and this story), the day had finally arrived.<p>

"Get the mail, Dudley." Harry wondered how he hadn't died from shock the first time through. Merlin forbid his Uncle ever ask Dudley to do something chore-like and actually _mean_ it.

"Make Harry get it!" Dudley whined.

"Get the mail, Harry." He complied with the "request". Nothing eventful happened on the walk to the door. He picked up the stack and waltzed back into the kitchen. He handed Uncle Vernon the mail and waited.

When Aunt Petunia eyed the postcard as if expecting another piece of mail would magically appear beneath it, Harry mentally gave himself a pat on the back for thinking to shove it under his cupboard door.

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><p>Beneath Harry's makeshift bed was a bag full of change rescued from sofa cracks and forgotten piles on tables and counters. There was just enough space for day's worth of supplies for a trip to Diagon. Slipping out of his cupboard, he headed straight for the treasure trove of healthy foods hidden in the third cabinet on the right hand side. It was down to mostly granola bars as his aunt had gone on a cleaning spree.<p>

All the same, he shoved in as many as he could carry and grabbed an apple for the road. Unfortunately in his excitement to get the hell out of there, Harry didn't notice the precariously balanced vase in the hallway until after it had crashed to the floor. Adding to the bad luck, his uncle lumbered down the stairs to find out what had woke him. For a single second the silence hung in the air as they stared each other down. Harry ran for it.

The mad dash through the neighbourhood would go down in Little Whingig history. The threats and yells would eventually wake Mrs. Number Three. She, like any other upstanding citizen, called the authorities.

The wailing sirens signaled the end of the Dursley's normality.


	3. No Hope in Hoping in the Future

_**Author's Note**__: Welcome to the rewritten second chapter of The Torture of Time. My long absence has very many excuses, but I won't trouble you with them. Instead, enjoy the beginning of a much better version._

_A note on the origins of this story, it was inspired after one too many (insert Supernatural force here) intervenes. So do keep that grain of salt with you._

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><p><em>How could I be more than just an orphan?<em>  
><em>More than just a burden without a home?<em>  
><em>But there's no hope in hoping in the future.<em>  
><em>I learned that a long time, a long time ago.<em>

_Keep my head down; don't look up for nothin._  
><em>I'm on my own, alone in this world.<em>  
><em>So alone.<em>

_-Ministry of Magic "Ascendio"_

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><p>Harry clambered on a bus to Charing Cross Road. He'd managed to give Uncle Vernon the slip by climbing over a fence and thanked his lucky star, Sirius, that he hadn't fallen to his death. He watched as the city oozed by through the window. He'd been lucky there even was a bus at this time of night.<p>

He settled in to wait for however long it would take to get to London. He needed the time to think on the gaps in his memory. Things like why was Sirius his lucky star? and what name went with what face? And why in the hell did Dumbledore want socks for Christmas? Okay that one wasn't really important, but Harry certainly wondered about that one.

Some amount of time later, the Leaky Cauldron, in all its decrepit glory, came into view. The sun was now struggling up over the horizon. Harry hoped that all wizards were like Ron and preferred to sleep until the crack of noon. He really didn't need to be recognized this early on in his little adventure. Between the Minister (Saccharine? No, Bumble? Oh, Fudge!) and Dumbledore, he'd either be snapped up and tossed to Malfoy or back to the Dursleys.

The time was on his side. Tom was in the back somewhere, and any wizard or witch still there appeared to be too drunk to care about young wizard wondering in. He slipped into the dark little area that held the walled entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry had hit his first real problem. How in the name of Merlin's animal print boxers was he to get into Diagon Alley?

He sat down on a crate in the almost pitch black corner created by... a stack of crates. He could see through a crack in the crates very well, but it would hard for anyone to see in. Suddenly the darkness seemed to close in... Nah, Harry just passed out from exhaustion.

A procession of wizards and witches streamed by as a Harry slept. It was the afternoon and a lull in the wall being opened when he awoke.

"Shit," he'd slept far too long. He'd hoped–

A tall woman garbed in green stepped out of the Leaky. Perched on top her hat was an... extra passenger, a bird of some sort. A boy's hand was loosely held in hers. The woman was familiar; the boy less so. Not that Harry could see his face. He supposed the boy might be more familiar if Harry saw his face. He followed the two through the wall. Right before Harry slipped out behind them and to the other side of the street the boy turned around, and he saw a face that was etched into his memory.

Neville! _Neville Longbottom! _He'd just seen one of his future friends, someone who could be just as brave and strong as he himself could. Neville's face disappeared into the crowd, and Harry was left with a mind full of questions and disturbing lack of answers.

Harry strolled down the alley towards Gringotts. As much as he wanted to hunt down Neville and reunite with his old future friend, he needed money to get to Hogwarts and for school supplies. He imagined just walking up to Neville like that probably wasn't a good idea anyway. Passing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, he looked around and observed the alley. It was just as _magical_ as his first trip to the alley, even without Hagrid pointing out everything. Now he could appreciate it without needing a total of eight eyes. As his eyes drifted over Flourish and Botts, he noticed a man dressed in rather shabby clothes leaning by the entrance reading. The same déjà vu like feeling settled over him. Harry walked faster.

On his way into Gringotts, he barely noticed the poem on the door other than to notice little had changed. Instead he breezed through to he nearest teller.

The goblin looked at him with clear disgust, "Key, __sir__?"

Harry smirked, "I'm a afraid Gringotts hasn't sent me mine." The goblin immediately turned and dashed out of the room, grabbing a hold of several other goblins as he went. Goblins were ruthless in their business dealings. It satiated their lust for war that they held as a species, allowing them to base their society on something far more peaceful.

But they also knew just how fragile their dealings with the Wizarding World has a whole were. Not all of the goblin wars had been started by the goblins, and the treaties that allowed them their bank weren't the most forgiving.

While waiting, Harry wondered how exactly his jaunt through time had been facilitated. His memories were mostly snatches of moments. Even the upcoming year was more hole than whole. As his train of thought steamed towards a close for now, a goblin ran in.

"Mr. Potter, sir, we'll be taking you to your vault immediately, sir,"

"Hold on, how do you know I'm not lying about who I am?"

The goblin paused and puffed up a bit. Clearly, this was his realm of expertise.

He said, "The wards, Mr. Potter, were built by of one the finest Gringotts team in history. One specific reward is tied to a monitor at every teller's booth. It reads the magical signature of everyone who enters allowing the teller to easily identify the wizard or witch.

Now, follow me, Mr. Potter."

He was led to the cart system and climbed in. His adrenaline filled cheer was clearly appreciated by the goblin. As he exited the cart, the goblin pulled a key from his pocket.

"Here is your key, Mr. Potter. We will be investigating why your key was not given to you. If you wish to check up on the investigation, ask for Griphook."

Harry stepped into the vault and gather money until he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A white envelope laid on a pile of sickles.

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><p>Two women glided towards a long table. Four banners hung around the room, but there remnants of others spread across the floor and hanging by a thread on the wall. The two women were dressed in flowing dresses of green, one deeper than the other.<p>

The first, a slightly shorter woman in deep, forest green, paused when she noticed a third seated a the table already, "You're always early. Couldn't you let one of us be early for once?"

The second of the two interrupted, "Have you seen Lady Time?"

The seated lady smiled, "When am I ever late? Unless you toss something unexpected in my path, _Trickster_," She teased before turning the other lime green garbed woman. She smoothed out her bronze dress in thought.

"No, Lady Luck, I haven't seen her recently. Should we be worried?"

__"Maybe..."__


	4. Years and Years and Years and Years

**_**Author's Note**_**__: Welcome to the rewritten third chapter of The Torture of Time. My long absence has very many excuses, but I won't trouble you with them. Instead, enjoy the beginning of a much better version.__

__A note on this chapter, someone brought up a very valid point that my treatment of Dudley was likely too harsh and sounded like something right of Texas... Well to be frank, Texas isn't that far from here and it's viewpoints can be found in the juvenile court a few miles away. I had sat in on day in juvenile court once and my treatment of Dudley was based on that. __

__I'd forgotten to show or even tell my opinion that there was a lot to toss Dudley in juvey at least. Between Harry Hunting and his later acts of vandalism, I'd always thought that by eleven Dudley would've had a rap sheet a mile long if it hadn't been for his parents excusing and placing the blame on others. (Maybe some palm greasing as well.)__

__However, since then, the judge that had invited me to watch has been tried and convicted of fudging the books among other things. That's left a bitter taste in my mouth as you can imagine. Anywho, I wanted to explain that in a place where everyone can see, and I have so on with the story.__

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><p><em>Early morning<br>The city breaks  
>I've been callin'<br>For years and years and years and years _

_** -**You Found Me by the Fray_

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><p>Remus Lupin was a werewolf, which may seem obvious, but it was something the vast majority of Wizarding Britain was oblivious to. He was thankful for small blessings like that. The enhanced senses that came with his affliction could be a bit of a blessing as well.<p>

There was breeze blowing towards Flourish and Botts that afternoon, and it carried on it a scent he hadn't smelled for ten long years, the scent of a boy he loved like a nephew. He looked up from his book. Amid th crowd he could just barely spot a messy head of black hair dashing through the crowd. He blinked and it was gone. Had...? Maybe Luck had smiled upon him for once...

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><p><strong><em><strong>Meanwhile back in Dursleyland...<strong>_**

All was not well in the perfect, _**_**normal**_**_, world the Dursleys had created for themselves. While the freak escaping would've a joyous occasion for Petunia (Vernon and Dudders would've missed his cooking she supposed.) Regard her little Duddykins, the police had stopped by to inform her that her guardianship was being questioned after Dudley had been found passed out drunk in a ditch. She had gasped in shock at the time, but she began to wonder about all sorts of things she'd heard from Dudley's teachers over the years. Had Vernon been lying about his golf money and trips?

She shook her head. It couldn't be; she didn't want to think about it. There were worse things she needed to deal with anyway. When the police had arrived the night before, the neighbors that called had immediately pointed them towards the disturbance. Vernon had been handcuffed on the spot. Then he had been hurled into the police car, screaming profanities the whole way.

She didn't know what she was going to do with her life anymore. There was a résumé gathering dust in her closet, but she doubted she'd be able to get much more than temp work. Her life was in tatters. She didn't have any dreams to follow. Except...

They'd made plans once, her and Lily, before those dratted wizards had taken her and changed her. They were going to see the world together from the Caribbean to Australia and everywhere in between. At eight and seven they'd bought suitcases and found travel brochures. She abandoned those dreams when _they _came and took her sister from her. When she started coming home with frogspawn in her pockets and turning teacups into rats.

She'd given up on nonsense like that. There was a fat bank account that Vernon saved in case of emergency, and this was certainly one. She supposed she'd just live out the rest of her life here on Privet Drive. The scrutiny would fade eventually.

If anyone had been watching the housewife, they would have noticed she'd been drying the same plate for the last thirty minutes. Petunia Dursley was at crossroads in her life. One decision could change everything. She didn't have a clue.

_Chances are what can go wrong, will go wrong._

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><p>In the Banner Room as it was known, the long table was mostly empty. The aforementioned Lady Luck of the last chapter sat on one side near the end, legs crossed under her lime green dress and average brown hair swept back of her shoulders. Across from her sat Lady Fate in her bronze dress, her short auburn hair was secured away from her eyes by a simple headband. They chatted easily as old friends do. A third chair was empty between them.<p>

It's former occupant stood staring out a window that with a wave of her hand changed from meadow to castle. She watched for a moment before it changed on its own.

Then a voice that sounded remarkably like Petunia Dursley spoke to her, "Chances are what can go wrong will go wrong."

She smirked as she watched a new scene unfold elsewhere. Her green eyes lighting up with mischief. She was Lady Chance, the Trickster, queen of probability and opportunity. Her plans wouldn't affect Mistress Dursley directly, but it had a chance of trickling down. Of course, she wasn't the only one with plans in motion anyway, so who knows what would happen?

With a cackle, she turned and walked towards her seat with her sister and their best friend. Now, if only Lady Time were here...

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><p>In the perpetual fog, wild waves wreck wretchedly against a rocky shore. On this island, a tall building spirals into the darkening clouds and even darker sky. The building is as twisted as those who inhabit it, and pieces poke out at the oddest angles. The building seems to be held up by magic and not the laws of construction or physics. The justice that once held the building up is long gone; that which holds it now is mostly corrupt and evil. It isn't the sort of place anyone willingly wanted to go.<p>

The only way onto the dank and depressing island is a small decrepit boat rotting in its harbor and held together by the magic of fear. The inside of the foul building is no better. It reeks of unwashed human and unadulterated fear. Dementors swoop through its halls with reckless abandon. This is the prison of Azkaban, the most loathsome place in the British Isles.

At the top of a rickety spiral stair case lies the home of some of the most notorious magical criminals. People with names like Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, or Augustus Rookwood. This is the high security ward, and it is here where Sirius Black had spent the last ten years. Had being the key word. In mere moments there will be uproar as the guards bringing food find his cell empty. They will then run down to the warden who will come to see for himself. They will comb the prison and question prisoners, and they will find nothing.

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><p>Harry opened the envelope, curiosity overriding any notion of caution. A letter spilled out.<p>

_To my dearest godson,_

_Something has clearly gone wrong. This is letter I hoped would never have to be read. You might want to sit down, pup. There's a lot you need to know and a short space to tell it. Your parents and I just switched the secret-keeper as of this letter. Peter Pettigrew held within is soul the location of the Potters. We never told anyone but Dumbledore..._

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><p>Albus Dumbledore was genuinely worried. While he may feign worry on a daily basis, it was a rare day indeed when he was actually worried. A week or so ago he watched in shock and horror as many of his silver devices had slowed or stopped altogether.<p>

Some of those monitored the wards he had cast around Privet Drive. Worst of all, the blood wards tied directly to Lily Potter's blood had failed most spectacularly. Albus was sure this ward was the only thing tying the boy to the Dursley residence. He reached for a lemon drop. This was going to be a long day.

"_Longer than you think, old man._" A voice whispered into the stillness of the castle. The portraits shuddered and the suits of armor stood taller.

"_Longer..._" An anonymous letter was sent to Rita Skeeter through Gringotts on the subject of Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore's life. Or was it Percival Wulfric?

"_Than..._" Fawkes flew away to places unknown never to return to Dumbledore's side.

"_You..._" A charm based around Minerva McGonagall's opinion of Dumbledore shattered. She rolled over in her sleep.

"_Think._" Sirius Black opened the door to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and his mother began to harangue him in her shrillest voice.


	5. The Rest of the World

**The Rest of the World**

AN: In answer to Mari Rey's review, see below. Oh, and enjoy my two-week late update... Seven hasn't even been written yet. *sigh* Forgive me?

**EDIT: I never did explain why I skip around very well, so here goes. When I'm writing this, I see it in my head. So this is written more episode-ish if that makes any sense. Imagine every POV change is just switching to a new camera. It gives a different view to the story and allows me to tell it the way I wish.**

Disclaimer: I live in the USA. Isn't it a little obvious that I don't own this?

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><p>The Wizarding World lived easily in their era of peace, unaware of the coming chaos. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade bustled busily. Students scurried in and out of the shops. The seasons flowed by in Hogsmeade with nary a hitch. Even on the boring day late July day our story started.<p>

Today was no different. So far in this sleepy little village in the English countryside, the only thing even to be gossiped about was a small boy being checked into the Three Broomsticks by a shabbily dressed man who they assumed was his guardian. Of course, they all knew that it must be washing day at the man's house. Obviously, those old robes must be all he had clean. No one even bothered to notice the appearance of the boy. Well... actually, one small child visiting the village for the first time did notice.

She smiled cheerfully. The story was sure to help her father's newspaper. Everyone knew the Quibbler was the place to go for Boy-Who-Lived sightings. Of course to be kind, there would be a few false sightings. And so, the arrival of Harry Potter went unnoticed by all but one. Which was, most likely, a good thing.

Later though, maybe one that day, a short, blonde woman stepped into the Hog's Head. She paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the low lighting. The usual clientele noticed what she looked like for future reference. With hair curled, lips painted red, and fashionable green robes- she stuck out like an hippogriff in a box of kittens.

She prowled towards the barkeep. Her every move screamed of a predator close to the kill. She perched on a stool before withdrawing a roll of parchment and a quill. The quill was plain and brown.

The barkeep set down the mug he had been drying and hung the rag up. He turned to face her, plainly waiting for her order. Instead, she smiled viciously.

"Now, Aberforth," began Rita Skeeter, "what can you tell me about your illustrious brother?"

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><p>The room was dark, and even with all her powers, she could see nothing. Some time later, whether it was seconds or hours, a sharp something began to dig into her flesh. She knew there must be some form of escape.<p>

With the fall of so many of her allies, she had been given some of their powers. Dignity, Strength, and Will were only some of the many. Her captors, she was sure, knew only of her abilities with Time.

While at the moment she was far too weak to use any of her powers, it was only a matter of time.

* * *

><p>Neville Longbottom seriously considered checking himself into the St. Mungos mental ward. At first, he thought they were just dreams; him getting sorted into Gryffindor, fighting Death Eaters, etc. Then the dreams got far more detailed and far less likely to be his mind making them up. Finding a three-headed dog, being brilliant in Herbology, and even standing up to Draco Malfoy (who he knew only by reputation at the moment).<p>

They were memories of a sort, but they certainly didn't belong in his head! There were other people in those memories... Maybe he could find them and compare? It was completely possible, he decided, that they were having the same problems.

The kid with the messy hair -Harry something?- was in a good sized chunk of the memories and would be a good start. Neville never consider even once that Harry might be The-Boy-Who-Lived. After all a friend -even if they weren't friends yet- was a friend. No matter what the rest of the world thinks.

* * *

><p>In the Malfoy Manor, it be story time for young elves.<p>

"In a time long ago, Merlin still walk on Earth. He do great things, but the Enemy be stronger. When all seem lost, Merlin be sent back in golden sparkles. Enemy, you sees, had captured Lady Time. Lady Time not be happy at all. Merlin be sent back in time with some memories by Time. Merlin send time along right path.

But some others be given memories too. They not know about time travel. Still they helps anyways. House Elves helps Merlin too.

Lady Time be captured again. Now we must helps new person. We helps..."

* * *

><p>"Mars isn't as bright tonight," Ronan observed.<p>

"Impossible!"

"Read the stars, Bane. An event has occurred to change it all." Firenze said before trotting away.

* * *

><p>In the Department of Mysteries, a brick fell out of the veil, causing a flurry of activity. Of course there were two questions on every Unspeakable's mind. Where did it come from and how did it get here?<br>Eventually, Albus Dumbledore was called in as an advisor. He poked it, prodded it, and cast numerous spells on it as the Unspeakables watched nervously. Hours later he nodded to himself and pulled off one glove.

Time seemed to move at the speed of molasses moving up a hill in January in Alaska as Dumbledore reached towards the stone. He lightly laid a finger on it. A brilliant glow of magic blinded all the Unspeakables.

Lady Chance cackled.


	6. Keep Your Friends Closer

**Keep Your Friends Closer**

AN: WARNING: Neville ends up... OOCing. Like way out of character, sort of. But whatever, Harry's reaction is hilarious in my opinion. Anyway, I meant to update long before this, ... but I CH 8 is almost done. As hint of what's to come I give you this: Some Fudge, A Grim, and A Cat. It ought to be obvious.

Disclaimer: What does it take to get you people to believe me? I DON'T OWN HP! Okay? Is that good?

**EDIT: I added another reporter for the sake of the fact that Rita Skeeter doesn't write without twisting something and the articles aren't twisting anything in ToT's canon. It doesn't matter too much, because you never meet this other reporter, but...**

For this CH after the newspaper article:

_Thoughts_

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><p>There are very few things that can shock an Unspeakable. Seeing Albus Dumbledore on the floor unconscious is most definitely one of those things. The Unspeakables stood frozen, staring at him for what seemed like hours. A Healer eventually rushed forward from the ranks of the Unspeakables. She knelt beside the old man and cast a handful of spells.<p>

"He'll need to stay in the infirmary for a few days. Possibly longer. Whatever that thing was it forced all his magic to expel at once. Be careful moving him. I'm not sure how this will affect his health. Can you send a magic specialist down once he's settled?" The other Unspeakables nodded and conjured a stretcher. Moments later Dumbledore resided in a bed deep within the Department of Mysteries.

Not a single Unspeakable recognized the symbol elaborately stitched into the back of her cloak. The symbol of Lady Chance...

* * *

><p><em>Albus Dumbledore<em>

_The True Story_

By Rita Skeeter and undercover reporter Fire

This is the first in a series about the story behind the man. We all know about the good and the great, but what about the bad and the ugly? How well did Dumbledore know Grindelwald? Could Dumbledore have stopped the rising of You-Know-Who? What exactly is Dumbledore's plans for the-Boy-Who-Lived, and how well is he protected?

This article will run for at least a month; we at the Prophet do nit know how long it will take Ms. Skeeter and Ms. Fire to cover the one hundred plus years of Dumbledore's life.

* * *

><p>Harry sat staring out the window of his simply furnished room in the Three Broomsticks. All of the usual was there: bed, nightstand, wardrobe, talking mirror, and, of course, the desk at which he sat. There were several inches of parchment lying in front of him.<p>

The inches of parchment were scribbled on with various names, ideas, and plans. Neville Longbottom was circled multiple times with, "What did he mean?" written beside it. Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Fred & George Weasley all had question marks. On the other hand, Ron Weasley had been marked out so savagely that it was barely legible. Among the few memories Harry had retained, there was a very clear memory from his fourth year.

He shook his head and stood up. Grabbing a small pouch containing a few coins, he headed out into the village.

* * *

><p>Neville had taken shortcut through a small alleyway beside the Three Broomsticks. He stopped in shock when he saw the messy haired kid – Harry Something-er – exiting the inn. He hid in the shadows of the building on the other side.<p>

_This is not going to end well._

When Harry whatever was close enough, he dragged the smaller boy into the alleyway.

* * *

><p><em>Sweet Magical Mother of Merlin, I'm being kidnapped by Neville. What next? Malfoy and Snape dancing through the streets with clouds made of rainbows and sparkles? Umbridge declaring October 1st Werewolf appreciation day? Voldemort opening a orphanage for muggle children?<em>

Shaking his head to clear it, he flopped onto a crate to wait for what would happen next. It was a good thing he was already sitting down.

* * *

><p>The Orchard that hid the Weasley's Quidditch practice paddock had long been the boundary between the Weasley lands and whoever held the deed for the other side. The most current owner was the Lovegoods.<p>

The Twins were miraculously not up to mischief. Instead they had headed out to practice when they had heard crying. They shared a look – what it meant can only be guessed at- and set off toward the noise. Sitting at the bottom of a tree sobbing was Luna Lovegood. The Twins knelt on both sides of her until she noticed them.

"Hello there."

"Are you..."

"All right?"

"No." Luna said quietly.

One twin smacked the other on the back of the head, "That was a stupid question, Fred. She wouldn't be crying if she was all right."

Fred sighed dramatically, "I know, Fred. Really, I do." Luna smiled a little. The Twins hauled her to her feet.

"Come along!"

"There's food,"

"good food that is,"

"a waiting!"

"We're sure Ginny"

"won't mind if we"

"bring her a present."

"I have a ribbon..."

"Right then, we'll just put a bow on your head."

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger has always been a firm believer in logic, even magic completely defied all logical explanation. It had guided through thick and thin, good and bad. This time she wasn't so sure. She knew Time Travel was possible, but this was just insane.<p>

She had traveled in time without the aid of any device. For the last few days she had been pondering how this had happened. She had no proof for any of her theories, and she didn't even know exactly **when** she had traveled from. It frustrated her to no end. She needed evidence that she would never be able to get.

While Neville was "kidnapping" Harry, Hermione left her house on a mission.

She had a best friend to find.


	7. Some Fudge, a Grim, and a Cat

**Some Fudge, a Grim, and a Cat**

Disclaimer: *points to the St. Mungo's Mental Ward* All the people in there believe I own HP. What does that say to you?

AN: As you will see Fudge is incompetent as per usual, but... *grin*. You'll see... Anyway, here's the next chapter. I'm trying to decide whether or not do a large time-skip in 9/10, like to say, King's Cross Station. I've accomplished a lot of my plan for the just before first-year. I'm ready for a nice, isolated castle where the students won't get information about the outside world... Oh, the things that could happen...

Oh and a quick warning: I love Luna to death, but one part of this chapter is completely from Ron's POV. Not my opinion on her at all. 'Kay?

Edit: Fixed something small. Just a bit cosmetic.

**EDIT 2: Ms. Skeeter isn't the only reporter writing the series, read last CH's Edit note for any extra info you may need.**

For this Chapter:

'thinking'

* * *

><p>Cornelius Fudge could, in fact, scheme his way out of a paper bag. A plastic one? Not so much. However, at current any scheming would far out of his ability. What with Dumbledore missing, the-Boy-Who-Lived starting Hogwarts, and Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban, he was extremely out of his league.<p>

So he focused on the problem at hand. What to do about Sirius Black? He needed to at least _look_ like he was doing something. He drummed his fingers on his desk. What to do, what to do? Well until he had a better idea...

Director Bones,

The Court Records for all 1981 sessions have been unlocked for your use.

You have permission to copy an files pertaining to the Sirius Black case.

Sincerely,

Minister Fudge

Amelia Bones read the note twice. Didn't he realize what he'd just done? She was know fool; she knew Lucius Malfoy lined his pockets. She knew that Fudge pelted Albus Dumbledore with owls most mornings for advice. Neither man would be happy with this. Every single Death Eater that was caught had been tried that year. As for Dumbledore, there was something off about Black's case, and Dumbledore's involvement was looking suspicious.

She had worked with Black as an Auror before the Potters had went into hiding. He was Hufflepuff-ish in his loyalty to Potter and Lupin. Why would he betray his best-friend (to be honest, brother would be more accurate)? She was putting 2 and 2 together and was most certainly not getting 5.

* * *

><p>Sirius Black sat at the kitchen table in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He needed a plan. Preferably sooner rather than later. He sighed.<p>

When in doubt, go to Moony. The question was, would Moony believe him? He stood up and walked out the back. After a glance to look for any watchers, He transformed into a dog and dashed off.

After all, there's only one way to find out.

* * *

><p><em><strong>From Last Chapter...<strong>_

_The Early Years: Part I of Albus Dumbledore_

_The True Story_

_By Rita Skeeter and Undercover Reporter Fire_

Very little is known about Albus Dumbledore's childhood before Hogwarts. We know he had two siblings, a brother and sister.

His sister, Ariana, had been attacked by an unknown amount of muggle boys for an as of yet unknown reason. We speculate that she was seen doing accidental magic. Mostly likely when she couldn't perform this feat of magic again she was attacked. Soon after, the Dumbledores' father attacked either the boys or their families. He was then sentenced to Azkaban; after which all record of him disappears.

We know nothing else of these early years. We can only guess at how these years must have affected him. Today he champions equal rights for muggleborns, but could it simply be a cover for s burning hatred of muggles because of what happened to his sister?

See next week's article for his Hogwarts years.

* * *

><p>Minerva McGonagall studied her tea, and no, she wasn't trying to predict the future or any such rubbish. She was simply thinking.<p>

"Why did I go along with this? Albus is clearly trying to bait someone or thing. Why? Why risk the lives of children?" She said, thinking aloud. She sipped her tea.

"Who could..." She trailed off. She drew her wand.

"There's only one." She stood and exited her office. She would see that the Stone was properly protected.

* * *

><p>Ron had returned hours ago from the village. He had been playing Tag with some muggle kids. The one girl playing with them, Amber, never got tagged. The Twins promptly started teasing him about his new "girlfriend".<p>

For losing his temper, he'd been confined to the kitchen for the rest of the day. Hearing someone at the door, he dived under the table. He waited for a moment and then peeked out from his hiding place.

The twins walked in with Loony Lovegood.

'What in the name of Merlin's missing father was **she** doing **here**? She's a loony! She should be locked up in St. Mungo's Mental ward!' He had other thoughts along this line, but they were even ruder.

Ron watched as Loony and Fred? sat down, and George? ran off to places unknown. Moments later Mum came in and started fussing over Loony. Ron was getting cross.

'What had **she** done to get fussed over? Fallen and scraped her knee?' he thought snidely.

George ran off again. This time Ginny came down, apparently excited to see Loony.

"Hi Luna! Mum, I'm going to stop planning a wedding with Harry."

Mum looked amused, "Why, dear?"

"Because he might want to marry someone else. I wouldn't want to marry him if he wasn't going to be happy." Ginny turned towards Luna. "What do you want to play?"

* * *

><p>"So... we time traveled?"<p>

"Pretty much." Neville leaned back against the wall, obviously thinking on what he had been told. Harry crossed his arms while he waited.

"Do we know if anyone else came back?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm assuming that, like you, they'll come and find me. Other than you and me, I don't know a thing."

"What was so bad about the future that we had to travel back in time? I don't remember."

"The world went to hell in a cauldron, Neville. From what I can remember, most everyone was dead and most of the world was destroyed."

* * *

><p>Hermione thought searching the magical places she knew first would be best. Hogwarts was out, Harry had no reason to be there yet. That left Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade was the smaller of the two, making it the logical first choice. If, of course, Harry <em>actually <em>got out of Privet Drive in the first place.

This was the logic that led Hermione Granger first to a bus; then to the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, and finally led to her standing in front of a small alley beside the Three Broomsticks.

'Where's the best place to look, if -' her train of thought crashed upon hearing, "About the future ..." float out from the alley. Taking a chance she sneaked down the alley toward a tall stack of crates.

Very slowly she peeked around the corner of the crates and was completely unprepared for what she saw.

Neville Longbottom _**and **_Harry Potter!

'I really need to buy lottery ticket with luck like this!' She took step back, and something fell off the crate. She froze.

Harry grinned, "Who's there? Come out!"

'With your hands up?' Hermione thought as she stepped out from behind the crates.

Harry's smile grew,

"_What did I tell you Neville? They'd find me."_


	8. The Adventure of Miss Amelia Bones

The Continuing Adventures of Miss Amelia Bones

AN: In which the plot snake shows up and changes everything I had planned. *glares* Anyway enjoy, I wasn't expecting to get this done, but I got bored decided I might as well try to finish this CH. My CH just get longer and longer. This one's 2,000 words or so.

See 7 edit for who U.R. Fire is. U.R. Stands for undercover reporter. And she's the one doing the actual writing because we all know how Rita writes...

Large bit of Dumbledore bashing, but not all the articles are going to be that way. Oh, and anyone know old Amelia Bones is? I'm going to roll with her being the same age as the Maraduers. But it'd be nice to know her real age.

'Thoughts'

* * *

><p>A day later Remus Lupin was packing when he heard the knock at his door. He sighed, wondering who it was. Opening the door, he found a man dressed in a black robe and hood.<p>

Ready to draw his wand, he asked, "And you would be?"

"I'm hurt, Moony-" The rest of Sirius Black's sentence was lost in a bone-crushing brotherly hug.

"Thought I lost you, Padfoot."

Sirius grinned, "Never would have happened."

"Sure, it wouldn't have. Sure."

"Anyway, oh smart one, you wouldn't happen to just know wher my godson is?"

"Unless he's gotten lost in the laundry," Sirius laughed and Remus continued, "he should still be in the Three Broomsticks."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Remus grabbed his arm and dragged him back inside, "No. First off, you are a fugitive. The Ministry is looking for you and the Three Broomsticks is one of the most public places ever. Students and townspeople and Ministry workers-"

Sirius cut him off, "Oh my!"

Remus rolled his eyes and regretted asking Lily to show Sirius how the telly worked even more, "Secondly, you need to get cleaned up. Shower, get some clothes, recover some memories, etc. Give it... 5 days." Sirius immediately tried puppy dog eyes.

"You _know_ those don't work on me, Sirius."

"I had to try."

And if either man had felt the odd sense of Déjà vu earlier, neither mentioned it. If either noticed that their reunion in said Déjà vu seemed to have happened after a longer period time, neither mentioned it. Finally, if either man noticed they _could_, in fact, remember said even, well... neither mentioned it.

* * *

><p>Luna Lovegood woke up sacred half to death. Trying to calm herself, she looked around. Still in Ginny Weasley's room and nowhere near her mother's lab. She slipped out of the room and into the hall. Tiptoeing up the stairs, she poked her head in the second unlocked door she came across.<p>

The Weasley twins were wide awake.

"Nightmare?" When Luna nodded, the Twins scooted apart, making space between them on the two pushed together beds.

That they patted the spot, "Come sit with Honorary Big Brothers, Gred and Forge."

"Let us tell you the story,"

"of a brave and bold girl,"

"quite intelligent, too,"

"and how she fought,"

"in a great battle hidden deep,"

"within the Ministry."

* * *

><p>Harry and Neville were plotting in Harry's room in the Three Broomsticks. Two days ago, when Hermione had stepped out from behoind the stack of crsates, they had begun making plans...<p>

_**FLASHBACK**_

"So whatever went wonky we need to fix, right?"

"We need to make things different too. Not too much at first, we've already made a lot of major changes already."

"Problem is we don't remember that much," Neville said gesturing towards himself and Hermione, "You remember a bit more, but not that much."

"So we deal with first year, first. Which we remember the most of. We seem to be the major players in it, so we should probably try to stay in Gryffindor. I need to find a way other than Ron to be Weasley adopted, and finally, if we can switch a few of the more minor people's houses... or something."

Hermione nods, "You're saying if we change minor details for this semester it'll have major effects but..."

Neville picks up where she left off, having seen what Harry meant, "Any more major changes this year might upset the whole time line or whatnot. So we need to wait until after New Year's for anything major."

Harry nods, "Exactly. I'm hoping the twins might be the Weasley adopters this time. Actually, I'm pretty sure they were probably the ones to the first time. At least, I guess that was our first time through."

Hermione smiles, "Who knows how many times we've done this, but any more planning and plotting needs to wait until the Express. I'm going to need to be home soon."

Hermione leaves, and they sit there for a second thinking.

"Hey, Neville? My parents would have had a will or something wouldn't they?"

"They should have. If you're wanting to go to Gringotts, you better ask about who had access to your vault. Dumbledore seems to have stolen the cloak at least, who knows what else might've been in your vault and what's happened to it..."

_**PRESENT**_

"Interesting trip, eh?"

* * *

><p><strong>5 days later...<strong>

_The Hogwarts Years_

_Part II of Albus Dumbledore_

_The True Story_

_By Rita Skeeter and U.R. Fire_

During his years at Hogwarts, Dumbledore built up a wonderful, glowing reputation. Much like Tom Riddle after him, he was Prefect and Head Boy, and all but one teacher loved him. Who is Tom Riddle? Tom Marvolo Riddle is You-Know-Who.

During his time there, Dumbledore befriended a fellow Gryffindor, Elphias Doge. As the closest friend of Dumbledore's we could find, we tried to interview him, however he slammed the door in Ms. Skeeter's face.

He claimed that she was, "the foulest reporter alive, and anything she reported would be false." We beg to differ. The same day we interviewed Albus Dumbledore's younger brother Aberforth.

Dumbledore seemed very much to be the rule follower of the family... until you dig a little deeper.

"Albus... he had plans to travel with his friend Doge. His grades were all Outstandings, and the job offers started pouring in during his seventh year. But when you looked a little closer, didn't belive that the sun had started to shine out his arse, saw what he did when alone, it was easy to tell something was wrong..." Aberforth's comments were most certainly right.

When combined with evidence only recently revealed, we found the darker side of Dumbledore. During his years at Hogwarts, Dumbledore performed many varied dark experiments. Dark does not necessarily mean evil, but in this case evil does not begin to cover it. And we've only scratched the surface...

"My brother," Aberforth spat, "was a lost cause long before Grindelwald ever came knocking. No matter how much our mother begged for him to quit those experiments of his, not that we ever knew what they were, he wouldn't. Makes me wonder if he's what he seems today; better for my health if I stay away anywho."

_Join us September 1st for the next article._

* * *

><p>She walked swiftly through the dark halls. It wouldn't do her plans any good to be found here of all places; if that information made it back to Fate, Chance, or Time and they were in a position to do something about it...<p>

"Ah, Lady Luck, how good of you to join me."

Luck snorted, "I do believe you'll find I'm the one in charge here."

The... thing nodded; accepting that as fact.

"Now let's get down to business, and I'm sure you know as well as I what we mean to achieve; no need to repeat ourselves..."

* * *

><p>Harry Potter was still wandering why Remus had asked him to come to this park. He fidgeted' waiting for Remus to come back from wherever he had gone. He heard stick snap somewhere nearby and tried not turn towards it.<p>

"Harry?" He heard Remus call. Harry turned around to see someone completely unexpected. So surprised was Harry, that he didn't realize he practically flew at Sirius until he was hugging the poor man to death.

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones sighed loudly and sunk to the floor. It had taken her 5 days or so, she lost track the second day, to just to <em>find<em> the 1981 court records, and now she had 9 drawers worth. Hadn't anyone in the Ministry heard of organization? Or alphabetical order at the very least?

She sighed again and started on first drawer's worth. Searching through them, she discovered to her dismay both the first and second drawer's worth were full of minor cases. Hidden among Mundungus Fletcher's violations in the third drawer's worth, was a file most Aurors only whispered about. A file containing the things Lucius Malfoy paid the most gold to cover, things like possibly being a Death Eater. She grinned triumphantly. So far at least, even if this became a wild owl chase, she'd found one useful thing. A free pass to copy anything she though pertained to Black's case, and she didn't have to have the Minister agree with her choices.

She started on the fourth drawer's worth. A few hours later, she sighed and cast a Tempus. It wasn't that much longer until she was off; the seventh could wait until the morn-

Ameila froze. She felt as if... Not walking over her grave. It felt as if someone was _dancing_ over her damn grave. She may not have been a seer, or even put much stock in Divination, really, but whatever that had been... Starting on the seventh drawer's worth was sounding better and better, and somewhere Lady Fate smiled, not that Amelia knew.

Another hour or two later and many, many useless files later, she hit the jackpot in the final, ninth drawer's worth. In the most pitiful looking file she had ever seen, she had found a slip of parchment. The only record of Sirius Black's imprisonment in Azkaben.

A small handwritten note that read,

_Sirius Orion Black is to be imprisoned in Azkaban for the betrayal of James Harold Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans._

'What. The. Bloody. Hell.' Not only was the bit of parchment signed by her predecessor, Barty Crouch Sr., but it was also signed by Albus Dumbledore. The parchment practically screamed cover-up at her. Didn't these people know that the truth will always come out?

That even though people always say, "The truth will come out a little at a time," that's not the way it works in the Wizarding World? That here the truth tended to come out all at once and blow up in whoever tried to hide its faces?

She wanted to rage and scream at the world for leaving one of the best Aurors she had known in Azkaban for ten years! But that wouldn't do at all. If she wanted anything done about this, she'd have to do it herself, and she couldn't afford to waste time ranting.

* * *

><p>AN 2: You'll notice F&amp;G know something... How much we've yet to see (and I have yet to plan). Luna seems not so much. Ye shall see though. For I have plans(sorta), *evil cackle* Oh and Amelia took on a life of her own and hogged the chapter, so that's the reasoning for the title. 10 might come sooner, but I really need the poll on my profile answered. Or you can send a review of your opinion. I might just go ahead with it, but I'd like to know the rest of the world's opinion.<p> 


	9. Riddled through the Ages

_**Riddled through the Ages**_

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.<p>

Claimer: I do own the personalities of Lady Time, Fate, Luck, and Chance. I also own the Ladies of Balance. These were all original ideas of mine with some input from friends.

AN: I started laughing evilly at a recent review. I love reading people's ideas. Sorry for the later-than-I-had-planned update. This could have been published sooner if not for my internet giving up the ghost. I have new internet, but I have to watch how much data I use.

The title comes from the lyrics below. Which are, oddly enough, from a Christian song. There's also some references to two different TV shows in here, one's British and the other's American. Let's see how many people can spot them...

* * *

><p><em>Show me what it all looks like<em>

_scribbled on the pages of a human life_

_riddled through the ages __until we see the light_

-Every Little Prison by Matt Maher

* * *

><p>Lady Fate sat at her desk; an extremely large book open in front of her. The cover was old and worn, and the earliest page was made of stone. The material it was written on changed over time. Some pages seemed to be written in code, others seemed to be riddles. There were prophecies and whispers contained in this book. It was filled with betrayal and hate. Hidden among the pages were also love and family. Every moment of everyday could be found if you looked for them, but if you didn't the major moments were all you saw.<p>

Spread around Fate were 7 years of pages. Some were in pieces, while others were mostly whole. Some were clearly missing large chunks, and near the end they were even more battered. Also spread around were the remains of 3 more years worth. They were singed and soggy, and there was simply no reading them at all.

Fate sighed. The pages contained hints of what had happened, and what now hopefully never would. The fate of the world hinged on how much could be changed. As Fate she should know exactly what was to happen, yet no matter how many times she frustratedly turned the pages looking for any hint, any sign of what was to come, the pages remained blank. Not single second ahead of what was happening "presently".

There was no way to discover why this was; no way at all unless Time was here. Time, by nature, should know as much as Fate. The only way to find out was for Time to check that timey-wimey ball of... stuff of hers.

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones considered smashing some people's heads together. Trying to get this case back into the court system without running roughshod over everything and everyone was like trying to thread a dragon through the eye of a needle.<p>

She sat at her desk, quill tapping the rhythm of a familiar song. She had most of the evidence, but she wasn't willing to risk being obliviated or worse... The question was how much of this was plotting, and how much was just more of the usual? Bribing, backstabbing, lying, stealing, and worse are things most Ministry of Magic workers do, will do, and have done for hundreds of years.

It was very rare for someone to make it without doing something suspicious at best. People like Arthur Weasley were the exception, not the rule. While she knew nothing of the make-up of the Department of Mysteries, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was another exception. The Aurors and other jobs in the DMLE focused on skill and work.

As much as she hated to admit it, there were a few in the DMLE who would mostly certainly done anything they could to insure Black never came back to his job. He and Potter had risen up the ranks very quickly and in doing so bypassing many people who thought they were more qualified. Of course, the fact she followed Potter and Black fairly quickly as well made them even more upset. Not only had they been bypassed by people 5-10 years younger, one of them was a woman.

She focused back on the file, if you could even call it that. A run-in with a muggle cop, a charge for magic in front of a muggle that had been dropped, and that damned piece of parchment was all the file contained. The slip of parchment after a closer examination revealed that while Barty Crouch had signed it the day after Black and Pettigrew "fought", Dumbledore had signed it October 29th. 2 days before the Potters had even been attacked!

The date had been just illegible enough that it could have been signed later, but a few spells fixed that. Now she knew that whatever Crouch and Dumbledore was covering up, Dumbledore had been involved in this somehow, had _planned_ on it. She hated the plotting, backstabbing, petty mess that was wizarding politics. Many tics was very apt description; Umbridge was, never mind all the other politicians, certainly out for blood.

_'Idiotic, brown-nosing, money-sucking tics. Describes the whole lot of them.'_

Amelia sighed; she had just sent off the rather routine paper of asking for a time slot before the Wizengamot. It was made even more routine by the fact that it was "signed" by one Agent Gibbs, a new recruit. It was well-known that usually a new recruit would do the bosses paperwork; a fact that was probably true all over the world.

Most cases were tried before a small court that was made up of former aurors and a Wizengamot member or two, but the cases everyone wanted were the ones that appeared before the actual Wizengamot. Murder, Arson, Robbery of a thousand galleons or more, and other similar things were tried before the full Wizengamot. They were the cases that got you noticed and got promotions. They could make or break a career.

It would take a while, but it was truly the best way to get her case in. The best thing was it gave her the time she needed to find more evidence. Evidence that would prove what really happened. Amelia picked up a piece of parchment and scribbled a note. She folded it into a paper bird and charmed it orange for urgent. Another charm later, and it was winging it's way to the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 weeks later...<strong>_

Albus stepped out of the Department of Mysteries for the first time in weeks. Almost a month had passed since he had been checked into the DoM infirmary by Unspeakable Healer Possibility. He stood in a inconspicuous hallway, waiting. Fawkes still had not come. He had called his phoenix ten minutes ago, and still Fawkes had not come.

Albus gritted his teeth and started up the stairs like every other person. He smiled at anyone he passed, but inside he was screaming.

_'I am Albus Dumbledore, dammit! I should not be taking the stairs and lifts like the common witch and wizard!'_ His thoughts continued along this track, even as he smiled and offered a lemon drop to someone.

Stepping into the phone box, his thoughts changed. Soon he might be able to see the sun, feel the wind, and get back to Hogwarts. As the box rocketed upwards towards Muggle London, he contemplated how he was going to find his rebellious phoenix.

Moments later he was stepping out into the rain, wondering if there was a spell to change London's weather permanently. Without any regard for possible muggles watching, he apparated north. A few jumps later he was in Hogsmeade, where the sun was out at least.

It was not long before he was in his office again. He settled into his comfortable chair, already plotting for the first week of school.

* * *

><p>Unlike Albus Dumbledore, Selena Lovegood would not be stepping out of anywhere for a few months yet. When developing a new spell, she had seen some of the future. Immediately she set out to change it. The spell she was working was what had killed her the last time around, but this time it didn't. Because her reason for the spell creation changed, so did its outcome.<p>

While in an unexpected way, she did change the future in a roundabout way. The explosion that resulted from her experiments created an opening in time. This opening combined with Harry Potter's last wish, his would have been dying wish, allowed future memories to rush backwards in time.

The problem was that in creating this opening, Selena also trapped it inside her. Each and every memory had to travel through her body. The good thing was even if the memories were to be remembered later, they all came through at one time for that person. The bad thing was that Selena would be in a coma until everyone's memories came through.

However, not everyone would be remembering, and some people were only sent a few memories. Harry Potter's, Neville Longbottom's, and Hermione Granger's memories had already traveled through. Still, there were many who's memories had even started the journey. So Selena Lovegood, mother of Luna, remains in St. Mungo's until further notice...

* * *

><p>Lady Time screamed. The pain was becoming unbearable, and she could barely think straight. Her skirt was torn, her shirt in tatters, and her shoes were the only clothes she had still untouched. She was covered in dried blood, and already there were scars forming.<p>

Her will was all that kept her going now. The only reason she had not broken. The reason her captors were utterly confused. They had known she would be hard to break, that she was the strongest willed of the ladies left, but this seemed outrageous.

A month had passed. She had been in this hell for a month. A month of pain, torture, blood, and tears. Her captors had forgotten she was the embodiment of _**time**_. Like the other ladies, when ever something occurred under control her powers grew. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month her power grew. It was the reason she was the most powerful of the ladies left.

Now she could begin to work on escaping. Somehow though a thought wormed its way into her head.

_'This, I have a feeling, is going to take a while. Is there someone out there reading my life like a book or something?'_

* * *

><p>Rita Skeeter slipped into the front door of Hogwarts. To pull this off she would have to be very careful, being seen by anyone or anything, especially portraits, could mean oblivation or worse.<p>

Having studied the wards, she knew that trying to get inside in her animagus form now would be like walking up to a dragon and saying, "I'm here! Eat me!." The only way to pull that off would be for classes to be in session, but she needed this information yesterday. Carefully, she moved forwards towards her goal.

Finding her way through the maze of hallways and stairs was tricky but well worth the prize at the end. She stood before a plaque deep within the Trophy Hall. She pulled the camera out of her pocket, and looked around. With a smile, she pushed the button.

Now all she had to do was find her way to the library for information about the Special Services for the School Award and hope that Fire didn't kill her when she returned the office.

_'Damn that woman and her need to make sure everything is factual.'_

* * *

><p>Harry Potter was happy. He had his godfather back, two best friends, and soon he'd be in Hogwarts. Changing the future was almost easy. Too bad Luck has never seemed to like him, or it'd be even easier.<p>

Somewhere deep within a dark and depressing headquarters, Luck smirked.

_'Keep trying Hero-boy. I've always had a thing for traitors, and now I'm one myself.'_

* * *

><p>AN: I found a way around doing a time skip, mostly. I'm not counting the two weeks between Amelia and Dumbledore. The date, as of the end of this chapter, is August 27th. Next chapter will either start on September 1st or get there very quickly.<p>

Hmm... I wonder what Luck is up to, too bad I can't tell you anything. By the way, this should be all will see of Amelia for a few chapters. For any Amelia fans out there, she'll be back eventually.


	10. While We Don't Know When

AN: In case anyone's curious or a little lost, the future they came from is _very_ different from what we see in the HP books. It is not however very important to the story, as most of what led up to it is the same. Book 5 is the jumping off point from canon; Book 5 happened, most of 6 didn't, and you can forget 7. However, by the time we get to the point where it would be important, the _Torture of Time_ universe will very different. If someone wants a more detailed explanation, I'm willing to give it. I might even write a one-shot someday.

For reviewers worried about chapter length, I'm working on making these things longer. If I ever get around to it, I'll probably combine CH 2 and 3. I'll try to lengthen the prologue, hopefully, at some point too. Not as much Dumble-bashing in this CH's article.

_'Thoughts'_

* * *

><p><em>You can never say never<em>

_While we don't know when_

_But time, time and time again_

_Younger now than we were before_

_ -Never Say Never by The Fray_

* * *

><p>Most Hogwarts students meet their best-friends on the Express, the three in the very last compartment were no exception to that fact. However, that fact that they met in a different compartment in an alternate time line is something not likely to be mentioned out loud or at all.<p>

However, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Harry already planned to buy some of every candy, Hermione had read and memorized their school books (again), Trevor had already hopped off to places unknown, and the Weasleys...

Just like always, a few minutes away from eleven, the Weasleys came bursting the through the barrier. First Percy, then the Twins, Ron, Ginny, and finally Mrs. Weasley. The family was as chaotic as usual. Much like the first time around, Mrs. Weasley corralled all her children in a spot where Harry couldn't do anything but eavesdrop.

This time, for whatever reasons, the Twins kept flicking anxious glances towards the train. Harry never did get a chance to figure out what that was about, for moments later Neville dragged his attention back inside the compartment.

* * *

><p><em>The Grindelwald Years<em>

_Part III – Albus Dumbledore_

_The True Story_

By Rita Skeeter and U.R. Fire

When Dumbledore's mother died, he was forced to move back home and take care of his sister. Sometime after this he met Gellert Grindelwald, a charming boy with big plans for the world. Dumbledore fell completely in love with Grindelwald, and soon became wrapped up in plans for a world where magicals no longer had to hide. Where those with magic were royalty. The problem was, both boys had differing ways in mind for obtaining this 'Greater Good.' Grindelwald wanted to take the world by force, while Dumbledore preferred working through the shadows.

They had a falling out, that descended into a fight. Dumbledore's sister, Ariana, tried to stop it or maybe help her brother. She was hit by a stray spell, and died. This was the true separation of Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

Much of what happened after this is lost to time, for Dumbledore disappears until he takes his Transfiguration Mastery. Not long after this, he's accepts a job as Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. All his students declare him an excellent teacher and brilliant at his craft. He quickly climbed the ranks; he became Head of House for Gryffindor within 3 years and Deputy Headmaster not long after.

During the late 30s/early 40s, a young boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle entered his first-year. He had a bright mind, a lot of power, and a very big grudge. His mother had died in childbirth, living only long enough to name him. He grew up at an orphanage and was bullied by the older children until he learned how to control his accidental magic. How he did this is still unknown.

While Dumbledore kept an eye on Riddle, worried he would turn to the Dark Arts, Grindelwald was amassing power on the mainland. He was the magical force behind Hitler, and no one really know who was using which. As magical Europe was trashed and burned, people called for Dumbledore to lead a force against Grindelwald. For whatever reason, they believed Dumbledore would be the one to defeat him.

And he did. In 1945, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. The how is still unknown, even to this very day. There were no witnesses. All we know is that Dumbledore dragged an unconscious Grindelwald out of the building.

Also during this period Tom Riddle earned a Special Services to the School Award. After some digging, we discovered it was given for "capturing" the boy who opened the Chamber of Secrets, Rubeus Hagrid. Which is completely impossible, for according to legend, only a parselmouth can open it. Hagrid is most certainly not a parselmouth, and to further prove his innocence; he is still working at Hogwarts today!

Tom Marvolo Riddle, on the other hand, was a parselmouth and if you rearrange the letters in his name you get: I am Lord Voldemort. Quite the coincidence. Or not, when you consider all the evidence pointing to, as we said in Part II, Tom Riddle being Voldemort.

Join us soon for the fourth installment of _Albus Dumbledore, The True Story._

* * *

><p>Fred and George Weasley, second greatest pranksters ever, were, to put it simply, confused. The ever wonderful Lady Chance had given them a mission, chaos. That wasn't the part they were confused about. When they had mention those odd... memories, she had frozen. Eventually, she broke down told them about the time-travel.<p>

The reason they were confused was because none of these memories told them why _they_ were involved. They had asked Lady Chance, but she refused to say a word, completely unlike her. The Twins were discussing what in the world could have happened for them to be involved.

"Well, maybe Ron-"

"No."

"Okay, what about that one kid-"

"Maybe."

"Luna?"

"It would make a lot of sense."

"True."

"So...?"

"Yeah, let's work on that."

"Fireworks?"

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the blackness of the old time-line, a woman once known as Lady Time smiles. A few altered memories, a few cut short, and few left out completely, and everyone is on a brighter path. With a final sigh, she dissolved into golden light. Her powers now still sending the memories and letting a few trickle through to the "real" Lady Time.<p>

* * *

><p>A girl of unknown age curls up into a ball and screams, screams, <em>screams<em> for all she is worth. She clutches at her head and tries so hard. Eventually it comes, inspiration lights up her world again. She puts quill to paper and carries on. Life must go on, and so must the story.

* * *

><p>Lady Time lays curled up on the floor during one of the few blissful moments when there is no pain. As drifts in dreams, she stumbles upon a memory. First, she finds herself back in the meeting room, standing amidst the many colorful and varied banners of the Ladies. Soon though, they vanish one by one, and she screams, sobs, and mourns the loss of everyone. Lady of the Night, who redeemed herself near the end, was the first they lost. Lady of the Dress mysteriously vanished, taking her multicolored banner with her; the memory descends into a nightmare as she watches Luck's vibrant green banner vanish then Chance's golden one. She watches and screams in horror as even Fate's, loyal and dependable Fate, bronze banner disintegrates. Time collapses as only her blue banner is left swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Tattered and worn, she watches as even her own banner is destroyed.<p>

_'No! No! This will not happen! I will not be the last.'_

* * *

><p>Lady Luck stood in the Hall of the Lost. Somewhere deep inside her, the woman she used is trying to get out, to take control, but that woman is long gone. All that's left is the woman standing in the hall today. A woman who feels no remorse. The whispering in the dark has finally broken through. She sighs; her work is not done. She turns around and does her best to pull herself back together.<p>

"I'm doing what's best. What's best for the Ladies, the Earth, and the Universe," Whether she's trying to convince herself or some unknown entity is a mystery.

* * *

><p>The first-years troop into the Great Hall. Some marvel at the ceiling, some chatter nervously among themselves, some do their best to ignore their impending "doom", and three children at the back act completely unfazed by it all. McGonagall brings out the Hat and stool and places both directly in front of the Headmaster.<p>

The Sorting Hat rips open its brim and begins to sing a bewildering song,

"_The ending of end_

_and the beginning again._

_Time has changed_

_and the Saviors have come to call._

_Bind together all_

_or face the coming storm alone._

_The intelligent, the cunning_

_the loyal, and the brave._

_Stand tall_

_Hogwarts together or you shall fall._

_Time and Fate are on your side,_

_but things are moving swiftly._

_Differences divide us,_

_but they also make us strong._"

Students look about confusedly; all wondering what it could mean. The seventh-years speculate that a new dark lord was coming. The fifth-years wonder if You-Know-Who has cheated death. The first-years themselves are spooked. The whole song seems like a bad omen. However, Hermione just turns to Harry and Neville and nods.

'_Round two has begun, let the pieces fall where they may.'_

* * *

><p>Minerva McGonagall concealed a sneer behind her stern mask. Dumbledore sat there in a glorified throne! She wanted to roll her eyes at all the grandeur, not that she had ever really noticed it before. She produced a scroll from her robes and began the tedious process of reading off names.<p>

"Abbot, Hannah!" was the first name on the list, and just as expected the girl went to Hufflepuff. She got farther and farther down the list until something interesting happened...

"Granger, Hermione!" Once her name was called she raced to the stool, perfectly normal. What was decidedly unusual happened once the Hat was on her head. It screeched before almost jumping off her head. Every student in the hall froze. McGonagall sighed; first these odd insights about Albus and now this. The year was shaping up to be quite unusual.

The same thing happened again when she called, "Longbottom, Neville!" and again with, "Potter, Harry!" The rest of the Sorting passed without any other incidents.

With one last name, "Zabini, Blaise!", the 91-92 sorting was finished. As McGonagall stood observing the students for barest of seconds, she came to an important revelation.

'_Something will change this year. A revolution will begin with these students. My cubs, the eagles, the badgers, and maybe even the snakes."_

Her eyes swept over the students one last time before taking the hat and stool away. There was an electric something around the students this year. Change would come fast.


	11. These Mistakes You Made

These Mistakes You Made

**AN: **Ah hem. This was supposed to be finished in like... October. Or something like that. Between taking an advanced math class, being in the "smart group" for every other class, sports and other non-school things, and trying to clean the house up for my birthday (12 more days!), my very little free time has been spent either curled up in a ball trying to hide from the world or playing a borrowed a Zelda game. Or Sims 3. Or curled in a ball hiding from the world while playing. Anyways, this chapter technically ends on September 2nd. This chapter is literally just one night.

* * *

><p><em>There's a light at each end<em>

_of this tunnel you shout_

_'cause you're just as far in_

_as you'll ever be out_

_and these mistakes you made_

_you'll just make them again_

_if you only try turning around_

_ -Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick_

* * *

><p>Dumbledore stood and made his usual I-will-give-a-speech-later speech before saying, "Tweak! Flit! Zip!" Harry blinked. Not the same, but... He looked towards Hermione to see if she to noticed the change. She was biting her lip and flicking a curious glance at Dumbledore. Neville, on his other side, appeared far more interested in his food than whatever Dumbledore said. He noticed the other first-years chatting among themselves, and after recognizing it as the same from last year, he let the conversation wash over him paying it only the barest of attention.<p>

The food was delicious. Steak, peas, corn, pie, cake, pudding, rolls, corn, ice cream, and oh so much more. The desserts were extravagant, as were the decorations. Nobody in the their right mind would _really_ use gold plates for anything less than a feast. Then again there were quite a few who claimed Albus Dumbledore was _not_ in his right mind, albeit fondly. The feast was much the same as last time. Harry would later swear he even heard the exact same conversation between Percy and Hermione the last time 'round. Although, not many people would ever hear him make the claim for the simple fact there were few he could tell. Dumbledore stood and made his usual beginning of year announcement.

Once more, the world passed unto the first night of first-year in which many a strange dream did appear. Harry, however, slept surprisingly easy. What he did not know was that many of the older years stayed up late into the night discussing the Hat's song. Decisions were made, opinions changed, and fates decided.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy did not. He tossed and turned as if fighting some unknown force. It went late into the night, long after most dreams were lost and forgotten in throes of sleep. It was then a voice entered whatever dream he had, pleasant or not.<p>

_One simply does not fight Fate passively. Freeing oneself from her whims and fancies is far harder a task than imagined. Fate does not simply play with you or make you her pet. This Fate is cunning, sly, and above all intelligent. Do not underestimate her, and do not underestimate Time and Chance. Luck will call you into her service. The changes made to fate will be greater than even Fate wanted._

* * *

><p>Augusta Longbottom sat silently contemplating the changes in her grandson. Her warm cup of Earl Gray and the roaring fire in her fireplace were doing nothing to ease her troubled mind. It should not be something she should be worried over, but the speed with which the change occurred was troubling. One night he was a clumsy, scared boy with little confidence in himself, and when he woke up the next morning he was clumsy, courageous boy with just enough self-confidence to not be over-confident. It was a puzzling change that could not be solved by drinking tea and staring at the red curtains in her sitting room.<p>

She sighed and placed the tea-cup and saucer on the table beside her chair. It was late, very late. A good night's sleep was in order. Merlin only knew what sort of mischief her grandson would find himself in, and she'd need that sleep to deal with McGonagall. She massaged her forehead in an effort to stave off the migraine coming from just _thinking_ about having to deal with that... _woman_.

Augusta would forever remember the misery the woman had put her through in school. The number of humiliating pranks McGonagall had put the school through. Augusta shook her head as she slowly climbed the steps towards her bedroom. As a prefect, Augusta had been the one to clean up the mess left behind. Then, McGonagall had grown, become a teacher, and performed a complete one-eighty. She could quote all the hypocritical letters from McGonagall about Frank.

Her favorite was, "_Augusta Longbottom, how could you let your son fall in with this crowd of miscreants? Just because he is forced to room with them doesn't mean he needs to win their favor!"_ If she remember correctly, the event in question involved sending catnip as Christmas gift. She had heartily approved and sent a Howler calmly stating this fact. For her birthday a month or so later, Remus, Sirius, and James had sent pictures of McGonagall's and everyone else's expressions.

She smiled sadly. How had they fallen so far? They had been so close, and when they weren't into mischief, so sweet. It was utterly unbelievable. Or was it? The fourth boy, (Paul was it? No, Peter.) he hadn't been very close... That day had been such a mess, and now that she remembered, Black had never had a trial. She had forced herself to attend all the trials, even the Lestranges' where she hadn't been allowed to participate. All the others though, she sat stiffly on her seat and voted guilty or not.

She supposed she may not have remembered properly. She was getting on in age now. Either way, maybe she ought to see the Director of the DMLE. Hadn't she been friends with dear Alice or some such? Amelia... Bones? She made note of it on the small notepad she kept on the bedside table. The muggles created such ingenious things...

* * *

><p>Lady Chance was at her viewing window again. McGonagall was far more correct than she would ever know. Change was coming fast, far faster than it should. There was another player in this game, a genuine unknown. She could feel the probability and statistics swirling around her, the pure chance of each event. Too much of this, or too much of that and the careful balance leading to Voldemort's defeat and a happier future for all skewed towards a much darker fate. She turned and exited the room, shawl billowing behind her. She needed to have a talk with Fate, and possibly Luck as well.<p>

* * *

><p>McGonagall sighed. While her new-found opinions on Dumbledore were enlightening, they would not help her prepare for the coming onslaught of concerned parents wanting to know of their babies made it through the first night okay. At some point, she would have to deal with Augusta Longbottom who still hated her for the various pranks she had pulled but couldn't be pinned on her. She searched for the firewhiskey she kept hidden for occasions likes this. Dealing with Longbottom was like trying to steal an egg from an angry mother dragon. Scratch that, Longbottom probably was part dragon.<p>

McGonagall shook her head. She did not want to try to imagine how _that_ would work. She reached for a stack of papers containing the usual paperwork. _'Why does Albus never do this himself? It's his job, and maybe he'd have a better grasp on who his students were if he did...'_

She settled in for the night eventually falling asleep around one. She snored gently, shot glass devoid of firewhiskey by her head and papers concerning funding, grades, scholarships, and other such matters scattered around her.

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones collapsed into the closest chair having barely made it through the door. Not only was she working overtime on the Black case, but she had sent her niece off to Hogwarts. Soon, Susan would be off into the real world, doing who knows what. It was times like these that made her wish Hogwarts started a year or two later. Oh the things she would give if it could just Susan and her for a little longer.<p>

She looked visibly deflated and felt far worse. It was days like these that made her glad that the Ministry had made September 1st an official holiday with a paid day off work. She groaned and dragged herself from the chair and moved towards her office. The place was in a state of disarray. It didn't even qualify as organized chaos. As she started organizing, an owl flew in through the open window.

It dropped the message on her desk and flew back out before she had even registered that it was there. Noting that it was addressed to Director Bones, rather than Amelia Bones or even Madame Bones, she carefully opened it, and promptly threw a tantrum. The damn fools on the Wizengamot had decided to _delay _her time slot until sometime late May, and even then it _still_ might be another month or two until she got her time in front of the imbeciles. She growled as she flung the notice into her fireplace. In one smooth motion, she withdrew her wand and cast a flame charm much more powerful than _Incendio. _She watched with satisfaction as the letter burned in a roaring fire.

She returned to organizing the room. The cheery, Hufflepuff yellow of the room no longer matched her mood, nor did it do anything to calm her down. The night dwindled away as she cleaned and organized her office.

* * *

><p>Lady Time tried the door again. It was locked. Not just locked, but impossibly locked. It had always been locked. It had been locked since the day it was made. No way to turn it back through time. There was only one place to get this sort of lock. The stronghold from which she came. How though, could her captors have procured one?<p>

These locks had been special made during the war as a precaution. She remembered how the Lady of Secrets had made each. Fate's lock had a fate that was set in stone, impossible to change. Both Luck's and Chance's had been made so there was no chance of them ever opening and no way to affect those chances.

She pulled back and tried again. There had been a secret to opening the lock. It had been added in case of a situation like this. The secret required a second Lady, in Time's case Fate. Time highly doubted Fate would find her way here anytime soon.

Her captors were waiting for her to break, for what reason she knew not. She crawled back to the small bed in the room. It was barely big enough for a cat, let alone a full-grown woman. She curled in on herself trying not to remember the painful war that had led to there only being four of them left.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore wondered when things around him had started to crumble. As he reached for lemon drop, he supposed it was too early to use the word crumble. At the moment, his problems were still rather few. Fawkes was missing, McGonagall seemed to have a small grudge, and Black had broken out of Azkaban. If he put on a pair of rose-tinted glasses, he could even say all was well.<p>

Not many knew anything about phoenixes. It would be easy to claim that Fawkes was simply off in search of a mate or some-such. McGonagall was most likely still upset over leaving baby Harry on the doorstep. She'd get over it eventually, it was for the Greater Good after all. Black, on the other hand, was far more troubling.

Still, it was semi-fixable. In fact, it could even be helpful. All he'd need to do was pull Black under his influence, and Black would influence Potter. From there it would be easy to keep the brat under his control. Yes, a much easier plan... He rewarded himself with a lemon drop and leaned back in his chair.

As he relaxed, he turned off the lights and looked out at the stars. He could name most of them, and there right in his line of sight was the star Sirius. It was as if the star itself approved of his plans. Little did he know there were two men out there looking at the same star with a completely different opinion, and that would be one of Dumbledore's greatest mistakes.


	12. Licking the Plate Clean

**Licking the Plate Clean**

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, first chapter with no skipping POVs. I am trying to make chapters longer, but I'm no JK Rowling with 55-and-a-half page chapters. More interesting AN at the end.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Jack Sprat could eat no fat<em>

_and his wife could eat no lean_

_Between the two of them,_

_they licked the platter clean_

_ - Nursery Rhyme_

* * *

><p>Mrs. Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive could no longer say that she was perfectly normal. With both her husband and son in jail, the eyes of the neighborhood turned on her. They watched her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake like her husband and son had. The night that led to all of this, the beginning of the end, was vividly imprinted in her mind.<p>

Ten years and some months ago that dratted man had appeared on her doorstep...

_"Mrs. Dursley," he pauses for a moment here, "you seem to have forgotten your nephew." Here he produces the small boy she would come to hate. She wants to scream at the long-haired, blue-eyed man that the boy is no nephew of hers._

_ Instead, she tries for a calmer approach, "I will not take care of one of... your _kind_." She cannot help the disdain that drips into her voice. These are not people she ever wants associate with. His blue eyes twinkle at her, and they make her want to stab him with something sharp._

_ "He is family is he not? You're all he has left." In those two sentences he implies far too many painful things. _

_ She bristles and hisses at him, "He is no family of mine!" His expression changes for a second... to the sort of expression that comes from being proven correct._

_ "If not out of familial love, then take him in for your own protection." Protection?_

_ She laughs bitterly, "From what? Wizards? You've already torn my family asunder once. Now you want me to take in a child that will likely do the same? My choice is obvious." She steps back and opens the door wider. The man's expression changes to one of surprise. She smirks and slams the door in his face._

_ She turns around and there the child is, right in front of her. She screams, and the milkman knocks loudly on the door. The rest of the day passed in a blur of police reports, birth certificates, and trying to find her sister's will..._

She shakes herself out of the memory and returns to reality. Her family fell apart that very day, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Petunia sighs again. Her house is no longer neat and orderly. She just hasn't had the will to clean up the messes her husband and son made, not without them here to remake them. It was painful to see her house so... empty.

It was quieter. There was no silly movie on the telly, no grunting coming from her husband while he read the paper, and no sound of the stove sizzling while dinner was being cooked for all of them.

Moping was doing her no good, so she started hunting for her favorite tea-cup and the local paper. It wasn't long before she was settled down with a glass of Earl Gray and was reading away. It also wasn't long before she spat out her tea and dropped the paper to the floor.

The title said it all, "Local Man Arrested on Charges of Abuse, Wife Still Under Suspicion." Petunia ran to her room. They had never abused the freak! Oh sure, they hadn't treated him the best... Her thoughts continued in that direction as she yanked open the door to her bedroom. She knew what she was about to do would make her look more suspicious, but it didn't matter.

She pulled her oldest suitcase down from the top of her closet. The one she had hidden and not opened since she was 12. The memories that flooded her were painful, but she shoved them to the side. She needed to get of here yesterday. She removed the few things that were left in the suitcase before packing it full of clothes and essentials.

She looked down at the attire she had on before deeming it inappropriate. It was too Petunia Dursley and not enough Petunia Evans. She dashed to the bathroom to collect her shampoos and such before a brilliant idea struck her. She forced open the sink's drawer, and pulled out a bottle of hair-dye. She flipped it over and counted the number of washes.

She smirked. She had thought her red was starting to show again. She jumped into the shower and hurriedly washed her hair, rinsing and repeating for good measure. By the time she had exited the shower, her blonde had washed back.

She was looking at a face she hadn't truly seen for somewhere around twenty-years, her own. With her make up and dye washed off, the familial resemblance between her and Lily showed through. Petunia herself was in far too big a rush to notice. The make-up she put on was minimal, and she was dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt that made her look far younger.

She brushed her hair, put on a hat and sunglasses, and finished packing in a span of five minutes. It was not the prettiest she had looked, but the redhead could probably pass for late twenties now. She hauled her suitcase down to the living room and called for one-way ticket to somewhere in the Caribbean for one Madeline Evans.

For the first time in her life, she thanked her mother for her middle name. On her way out the door she pulled down a picture of herself, her husband, and her son. She shoved it into the back of her suitcase and rushed out the door.

Petunia Madeline Evans left in broad daylight and nary a soul noticed. It's amazing what one can miss when they're too busy gossiping. Petun- _Madeline _found her way to the airport for the first time in years, climbed on a plane, and bought a bag of peanuts before she thought about what she was leaving behind. It was not the best outcome, but it was a workable one at least.

What Madeline didn't know was that not an hour later, police officers came crashing down on her (former) doorstep to arrest her on the charge of child abuse. It was an extremely _lucky_ escape.

* * *

><p>AN: Petunia's a redhead who dyes her hair blonde: This idea came to me because they seem so different, you know? It just seems a very Petunia-ish thing to do. Once Lily gets her letter and the final straw is broken, I imagine Petunia would want to be as different as possible. If this as been done in some other story, I'd love to read about. Otherwise, I think I may have come up with something original. Through this chapter I also tried to say some about what I feel Petunia's character is. I truly believe that she truly believes that the only thing they've done to him is (at the strongest) neglect. I especially tried to point that out with the line about not noticing... Anyways, this chapter is something I've had planned for a bit. It was supposed to go a bit differently, but the plot twist snake decided certain scenes might make more sense later if this happens... Unless the snake changes those too. That's all I've got to say about this chapter in particular.<p> 


	13. What Lies out There

**What Lies out There**

AN: Merry Christmas! Second chapter in this month. You might get a second present too as I get of school for the holidays!

In which I delve deeper into this Dumbledore's character, Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom make another appearance, Chance and Fate have a short talk, there is chaos and mayhem, we find out what happened to some miscellaneous characters, and I give Ron a _much_ better fate than he deserves. Someone asked about smuggling Luna in, but at the moment Luna is only known by Twins/Ginny/Other Miscellaneous Weasleys. Unless I am forgetting something, my new little trio doesn't know her yet. The Ladies don't either. Luna is planned to, as far as most of the characters are concerned, come pretty much "out of left field where they don't even mow the grass," to quote a teacher of mine. After all, Dumbledore/Voldemort/Random Ministry Worker #32 isn't expecting Luna at all.

But that isn't really going to be for a while, and can change at moments notice. Plot twist snakes aren't the most cooperative beasts. Also, credit to the HP-Lexicon essay on Harry's year (not sure who wrote it) for some personality tidbits and such, and the name "Sophie."

Also, apologies for the section dealing with British police and such, I live in the US and thus had to guess at how the British police system works. Then, again I'd probably have a similar amount of trouble dealing with how to write the American system.

Anyways, enjoy the new chapter.

Date as of end of last chapter: September 2nd

* * *

><p><em>What lies out there?<br>No one knows  
>The tide could bring in anything<br>So steady as she goes  
>Steady as she goes <em>

_ -Steady as She Goes by Sky Sailing_

* * *

><p>Inspector Smith had dealt with a few child abuse cases in his years in the Surrey Police. He'd escaped being called for the truly bad ones, but his luck had run out today. The house seemed nice enough, and he could have even believed nothing was going on. If the wife hadn't done a runner and both husband and son been arrested that is. One look at the cupboard under the stairs was enough to relieve him of <em>that <em>particular belief.

This wasn't the usual bruise or two on the child or even the hadn't been fed in a day or two average case. This was a bloodstained, bed too small for a cat, five different locks, and not a single toy except for one toy soldier case. The black lights and search dogs were soon brought in. Many a veteran officer found him self losing his breakfast over the sheer amount of blood that had been revealed.

Inspector Smith had come to fairly obvious conclusion, someone had to have helped the kid for him to last this long. They went through rounds of questioning the neighbors, and quite a few pointed them towards the resident crazy cat lady, Arabella Figg. While the search dogs tried to find any trace of the kid, Inspector Smith walked down the lane towards the old woman's house.

* * *

><p>What Inspector Smith didn't know was Mrs. Figg had finally given up on Dumbledore. She hadn't seen Harry since late June and was, frankly, quite worried. The darling child was usually dropped off at her house for days at a time during the summer holiday as the Dursleys left on their annual vacation. She knew Harry would be starting Hogwarts this year, but...<p>

She could count on one hand the number of times the poor boy came to her house with out at least a bruise or five. Dumbledore had always told it looked far worse than it was, but the things her poor boy said... And yes, he was hers. She cared for him many a day, healed his wounds, taught him to read, and how to hide that enjoyed his time here.

When the inspector knocked on her door, she leapt up him the speed and agility a woman her age should have lost a long time ago. She let him in and immediately told him everything she knew. It was hours later before he got a word in edgewise.

"Why have you never reported this, ma'am?"

She moaned and carefully kept the Wizarding World out of it, "Who would believe me? I'm just a lady who's extremely fond of cats and a little batty. The Dursleys are a well-respected family in this neighborhood, you know."

When the inspector left, she hurried to the small hidden room in her house where she kept her owl and sent a letter in the hopes it would reach her darling boy.

* * *

><p>It was late evening when Amelia Bones received a letter by owl from Augusta Longbottom. A bit surprised, she sat back down in her chair to read it. She replaced the secrecy charms on her door and sat her bags on the desk. It wasn't long before the letter floated to the floor.<p>

She had meant Augusta Longbottom a handful of times when she had helped Alice plan her wedding. Augusta had never failed to have an opinion or to state it. The hesitancy in this letter was unlike her. That wasn't what surprised her so much. It was the small nugget of information revealed.

Augusta was one of the few who had been to every trial, so if she could remember that there had been no trial for Sirius... Amelia knew Augusta had done her best to put those behind (as had many others for that matter), but if one person could notice the discrepancy... Amelia's job would be much easier if she could find others like Augusta who could, in turn, possibly convince others. Amelia grabbed her bags and things hurriedly and dashed down to the atrium. Weaving the crowd, she snagged some Floo powder and ran for the nearest open fireplace. With a flying leap, she bypassed the line and shocked everyone in the atrium.

A quiet exclamation of, "Longbottom Estate!" later, and she practically landed in Augusta's tea.

"Amelia? Whatever caused you to be in such a rush?"

"I couldn't share this by letter, Mrs. Longbottom-"

"Call me Augusta, dear. You were a friend of Alice's after all."

"Augusta, then. I need to show you something...," With that Amelia pulled out the small file on Sirius Black with its single slip of paper.

* * *

><p>Ronald Weasley was the most singularly unhappy person in Gryffindor tower. He hadn't befriended the-Boy-Who-Lived, had lost Scabbers to places unknown, and certainly hadn't made any other friends in the castle. He sat sullenly in his corner of the tower while watching the other students mingle and enjoy themselves.<p>

He was summarily ignored by the rest of Gryffindor. They were far more interested in their famous roommate, Harry Potter. They were all engaged in a fierce game of Gobstones, and it was still quite the close game. When Ron made a small comment on how stupid a move was, he was ignored. When the move did indeed prove to be idiotic, they all shared glances, scooted over, and gave him a chance. He crushed all the competition.

The Gryffindor Gobstones team immediately drafted him, as did the Chess club when it was revealed that he was even _better_ at chess.

* * *

><p>In the bowels of the castle, there was a small secret room of the Common Room of the Slytherin Dungeons. In this little room three young snakes hid and continued their discussion from the previous night in hushed tones. The three snakes came from quite different backgrounds. Daphne Queenie Greengrass was from a well-off pureblood family. Nowhere near the likes of the Malfoys, Blacks, or (before their shrinkage to one member) the Potters. Tracey Anne Davis, a half-blood, came a few steps lower on the money ladder. Her family had enough money for a trip abroad if they saved for a year or two, and they certainly had no trouble paying the day-to-day bills. Sophie Helen Roper, on the other hand, was much further below. Her family had just enough to stay afloat, or they had until her Muggle father lost his job.<p>

The three were an unlikely trio in Slytherin House were status was based on money and parentage. The trio had met during the night before. Unlike the other houses, Slytherin stayed up late talking over what the new song would mean for the future of the Wizarding World and how they could capitalize on it. Daphne had realized one thing when she heard the song; the usual Slytherin politics would be of no use. Her parents believed neutrality was key; it kept them in business after all. No Dark Lord goes after his main ingredient supplier if there is no one to pick of the slack. Daphne disagreed.

She didn't want to be walked all over by the likes of Pansy Parkinson, so she kept mostly quiet about it on the train ride. Now, though, she needed to find any Slytherins who agreed with her. She quietly began asking questions of her other first years. The older years, even second, were too entrenched in their petty games.

Tracey was the first of the only two who were likely to have found the same meaning, and she had. Tracey had grown up on the same stories of Slytherin Daphne had but had seen the need for change even faster than Daphne. Sophie, while on the poor side, certainly was no idiot. Each of the three had seen what was going, and it hadn't taken long for the trio to find each other in the chaos of the common room and slip away.

Returning to the present, Daphne asked a simple question, "What do we do?"

Tracey sighed, "No other Slytherin would agree to what we think."

It was Sophie who brought the obvious answer, "We look outside the house, then. Isn't the Potter kid supposed to be some well-off hero? Wouldn't he be likely to at least hear us out?" The shock on the other two's faces caused her to back pedal a little, not wanting to lose what appeared to be her two new friends, "I mean, the books about him paint him to be a saint. While they can't be completely correct, doesn't every good lie have a basis in fact?"

Daphne's shock turned into a trademark Slytherin smirk, "No to mention, he's the-Boy-Who-Lived. If you can claim to be even a distant friend of his, all sorts of doors would open."

Tracey sealed the deal, "If the Hat wants everyone to stick together, what better way? We'll be likely to get more power this way than any other." Happy that their ambition would be fulfilled with their cunning plan, they slipped back into the girls' dorms one at a time. No need to let the others know they working together.

* * *

><p>Over the years, Albus Dumbledore began to believe in his own image. When people said he was all-knowing, one of the greatest wizards of his age, or one of the various other glowing things said, he truly believed them. Some of his reactions and thoughts could be excused on this principle alone. That doesn't excuse everything, and the things that are direct result of that are certainly <em>not<em> excusable.

Dumbledore always fancied himself a "Master Manipulator," but it was the people's reactions that truly led him down his path. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, but for who they never say. Dumbledore's were always for himself. His problem was that he was more journeyman than master. There were still many a chink in his armor where information could be leaked even without the help of a very powerful almost-deity like Lady...

School had been in session for a week, one treacherous week. McGonagall kept shooting glances his way, and the other professors had been extremely uneasy. That blasted article in the Prophet had certainly not helped. The students were just as unrestful, but that had been easy enough to remedy. His professors one the other hand had seen this set-up one too many a time.

Most people whose good opinion he needed were easy enough to sway back to his side, but the general public's opinion? Much harder, he'd been set back more than just decades. He'd _never_ been seen in a light this negative. Yes, he'd been called naïve, a doddering old fool, senile, and many other vicious names. This?

This was far, far worse. Far too many secrets had been outed, and he had very little control over the Prophet with which to fix it. The Prophet was one of his few oversights, and one he really should have rectified before now. Alas, the Prophet had always seemed inclined to listen and publish whatever lies the Ministry spewed out, and Albus had a firm grip on the Ministry.

He sighed tiredly; there was little he could do. He turned out the lights of his office and slowly walked towards his quarters. Tonight, he imagined, sleep would be a precious commodity for him.

* * *

><p>Lady Chance's steps echoed eerily as she walked down the long hall towards Fate's office. The silence around her could be measured in pounds. She could hear her own breaths and heartbeats. She missed the other ladies. She could remember how this hallway used to be. Ladies bustling and hustling from place to place. Sometimes finding the person they had looked for had been looking for them.<p>

She was smiling softly as she let herself into Fate's office.

"So, dear Chance, what brings you here?" Fate continued scrawling notes into the book on her desk.

Chance took a deep breath, one never knows what might set off Fate's rare temper, "There's a complete unknown affecting our changes. I've no clue as to who or how either."

Fate calmly replied, "Nothing?"

"Nothing, the probabilities, possibilities, and whatever you want to call them are far to knotted together." Chance started pulling on her hair in an effort to keep from freaking out.

Fate sat up straighter and tightly grasped her pen, "I haven't seen a thing. How did this come to you attention."

Chance shook her head, "It's all coming too fast. Everything keeps changing. Too FAST!" The last bit she screeched out, and a headache started. Fate was up in a flash.

"Let's get you to Lady of Health's old office. There should still be some pain medication, potions, or whatever they were...,"

* * *

><p>Date as of end of this chapter: Between 11 PM September 8th and 2 AM the 9th<p> 


	14. One Walks Far

**One Walks Far**

AN: I'm rather sorry; my lovely grandmother got an infection, and, being a diabetic, that makes pretty much anything life or death. That meant we had to rush her to the hospital and hope whatever it was wouldn't be too bad. She just got out a few days back, and I spent much of the time fretting over her, moping, or spending the night at the hospital. Or a combination of the above. My muse deserted me, and even the plot twist snake couldn't be aroused. Then there was Christmas and... -shrugs helplessly- Ah well, it's a chapter innit?

I really wanted to write a scene in this chapter, but, not only did it not come out right, it conflicted with the Augusta I had already written. Basically, Neville got upset over the fact the police thought Harry might be dead. Harry tries to shrug him off, and they have the mutual problem of realizing their relatives are _way_ worse than they seem. Of course, that doesn't fit with what I've written. Seriously though, Neville gets dropped out a freaking _**window **_so high he had to _**bounce**_ to safety, and no one even bats a flipping eyelash?! I swear at times the world JKR wrote his pretty friggin' messed up.

/end mini rant

Again, I give a character who doesn't deserve it a good fate. Blame it on the Deathly Hallows movie. Also, friendship-fluff alert, Mrs. Figg is a kind old woman, that fate may not be as good as you think (if you read the article closely, Mwhahacough), and Augusta is as Augusta does.

Enjoy as (hopefully) always.

Date: Sept. 9th

* * *

><p><em>Little by little, one walks far.<em>

_ -Proverb from somewhere_

* * *

><p>Fate sighed. At times Lady Chance was probably more trouble than she was worth. This was shaping up to be one of those times. Chance currently lay sleeping on one of the examination tables in the former of office of the Lady of Health. <em>How<em> she managed to sleep on it, Fate had no idea. The things were singularly uncomfortable. The pain reliever had worked its magic, and Chance had apparently decided to take a nap in the intervening minutes since she had passed the medicine to her.

Deciding this was likely for the best, she stood and stepped towards her sleeping friend. Chance rolled over in her sleep and sighed contentedly. With a tender smile, Fate tossed a blanket over her. There would be a time to discuss the matters from earlier. It wasn't now.

* * *

><p>Augusta sat silently sipping her tea and watching the sun rise. Upstairs, Amelia slept in one of the guest beds. It had been late enough as it was, so she had insisted the young woman stay the night. She remembered the conversation from the previous night well.<p>

Just thinking about the injustice that had been done could send her into a rage, instead she kept calm. (Though her grip on the tea-cup was a mite bit too tight...) On the table before her was a sheet if parchment on which she'd written all that she remembered about who had come to every trial. On the reverse side, she had written a list of those that she wasn't sure if they had attended all the trials. Both lists were depressingly small, and together wasn't much better.

She could only hope that she had forgotten somebody...

* * *

><p>Madeline Evans had, blessedly, managed to settle in quite well with the locals on this little island. She still wasn't quite sure of its name, but they hadn't had an airport. It had taken a boat ride from Bermuda to get there. She was still thanking God every night that her plane hadn't crashed over the triangle, but she had a feeling that had less to do with her and more to deal with the <em>other <em>people on the plane.

She had found a job at a quaint little shop on one of the few thoroughfares. It was a nice place, if a little behind the times. Oh there were cars and electricity, but most had little money to pay for such things. They survived. So did she. Even more surprisingly, she grew to like it here. There was still gossip and some other shared things with the women back in Britain, but all-around it was a different place.

A place where the old Petunia Dursley would never have survived, let alone _thrived_. Instead she had reverted to the only personality she could. The Petunia Evans she had once been before Hogwarts, before Privet Drive, before Vernon Dursley. Madeline Evans was a far nicer woman. While some of her reactions were still the Petunia of ol', she had managed to change in the short time.

Somehow.

* * *

><p>Harry, Neville, and Hermione were one of the few Gryffindors awake. Considering it was a Monday, there housemates could be forgiven for being sleepyheads. Neville and Harry themselves appeared to still be asleep. Hermione smiled.<p>

They both seemed to be moving only because of the routineness of breakfast. In fact, as they surprisingly ate mostly the same things for breakfast, they were even going ahead and filling the other's plate. To be fair, she had been doing the same thing with the orange juice.

Still, it amused her how close Neville had become. The friendship between her and Harry was a given, but Neville's inclusion had surprised her a little at first. Of the three, she had the fewest memories of the future, so she wasn't quite sure where the surprise came from. It made little sense to her and thus pushed it aside.

Some time during her musings, the first of the Monday morning owls straggled in. Some of these were old decrepit owls that had been sent early last week; some were lazy owls that had been sent Thursday or perhaps Friday; still others had come from far off lands. Finally, some had simply been sent Saturday or Sunday by parents nearby.

The owl that staggered into a landing in front of Harry was clearly of the first variety. It looked as if it had been tossed into a tornado, then dumped into a hurricane, and then left to fly to Hogwarts from somewhere in Canada, Halifax maybe. In short, it looked worse than Errol, the Weasley family's beloved owl.

Harry, who had begun eating, raised an eyebrow at it. It was apparently too early in the morning for any comment.

Neville managed a, "Who's it from?" Hermione herself mirrored Harry. He looked at the envelope to check if the sender had written their name (which Hermione highly doubted), and his expression changed from a sleepy disinterest to a shocked smile.

"It's from old Mrs. Figg, a slightly batty woman who lives in my neighborhood. Make that a slightly batty woman who knows about magic at the very least." Hermione opened her mouth to question him further, but he was already reading the letter. Every few minutes he'd smile, sometimes outright _grin_ at the letter.

When he finally looked up from the letter, he said, "It's nice to know she still cares. Probably, one of the nicest ladies I've met. She taught me to read after all." Which was enough to put her in Hermione the bookworm's good books.

"Apparently she's a squib, and her many, many, _many_ cats are Kneazles. Whatever those are."

Neville entered the conversation, "Basically? They're like magical cats. They tend to be long-haired and more intelligent than the average cat."

"Sounds like my kind of cat!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "The cat version of Hermione? Wonderful, I know what to get you for Christmas now." Hermione reached across the table and slapped him.

"Ow! My poor arm! You horrible woman!" The trio erupted into laughter, and the small number of students awake looked at them as if they had grown an extra head or three.

"So what did she want?"

"Wanted to know how I was doing, and if I was enjoying Hogwarts. Spent a large chunk of the later talking about her kneazles. Evidently, the police stopped by the Dursleys and found me missing because they came knocking on her door asking questions. They seem to be worried that I might be dead."

Neville and Hermione gawked at him.

It was Hermione who said anything first, "What in the world have they done to you?!"

"Nothing, nothing! They probably made an assumption since Dudley and Vernon are apparently in jail. Something about Dudley having been found drunk, and Aunt Petunia did a runner..."

Hermione decidedly changed the subject, wanting to discuss their classes and such.

Neither noticed the somewhat dark look on Neville's face.

* * *

><p><em>The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord Riddle<em>

_The Voldemort Years_

_Part IV of Albus Dumbledore_

_The True Story_

By Rita Skeeter and U.R. Fire

Tom Marvolo Riddle was the son of a squib from the line of Slytherin, Merope Gaunt, and a wealthy muggle, Thomas Riddle. Merope wanted a way out of having to marry her brother. Her family had long descended into poverty, and being as pureblood obsessed as they were... When Merope first saw Thomas ride by on his horse, she saw her chance.

Somehow she managed to procure a love potion; the strength of which is unknown. She ensnared the young man, and soon found herself with child. By this point they had been together for a while. We can only speculate at why she stopped the potion.

Thomas Riddle left her immediately; never again coming into contact with wizards until he was killed by the killing curse. Merope lasted a far shorter time. She died in childbirth, surviving only long enough to name her son.

Tom grew up in an orphanage where he bullied and was bullied. When Albus Dumbledore came to deliver his letter, he found himself faced with an uncomfortable sight. Instead of trying to help this child, he turned his back on him. Would it have made a difference? Who knows.

Tom spent his years in Hogwarts in the Slytherin dungeons. He quickly climbed his way to the top of the Slytherin hierarchy. With his Slytherin heritage and Parseltongue ability, no one stood a chance a retaining the leadership of the snakes.

It was not long before he discovered the Chamber of Secrets and framed Hagrid. Little else his known of his school years.

Tom spent a year or two working in Knocturn Alley before setting off to explore the world. Romania, Egypt, Greece, Italy, Brazil, and Bermuda are a tiny fraction of the places he visited. He came back to England only twice.

Both times he applied for the post of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and both times he was denied. Ever since the second time, not a single Professor has taught the course for more than a year. Coincidence? We think not.

Soon after, in December 1969, he was drops off the radar. This coincides neatly with the very first stirrings of the Dark Lord Voldemort. By late 1970, the Ministry had started to realize just what was going on. They were too late.

By then a staggering number of wizards, witches, muggles, and squibs had been murdered. The next ten years were filled with utter terror. In late '79 or early '80, a light at the end of the tunnel appeared. A prophecy about a boy to be born as July died to parents who thrice-defied.

At 11:59 Neville Franklin Longbottom was born. At 12:02 Harry James Potter was born. There were now two boys who fit the bill. We all know the story of what happened next.


	15. A Lesson Learned in Time

A Lesson Learned in Time

AN: In Red Phoenix Dragon's last review, he/she made two interesting points about the last article. First off, I'd like to point out that while Rita Skeeter and Fire do their job well, not a lot of evidence of how much Dumbledore interacted with Tom would have survived. We as readers know a little more (if Dumbledore wasn't lying too much) because of Dumbledore and Harry's lessons. Sixth year was when we learned the most right? That doesn't mean the wizarding public won't find out. That would cause a very big scandal that Dumbles would be very busy cleaning up, you know...

Regarding the second point, that's more the next article's speed. It will focus on most everything before Harry steams off on the train to Hogwarts beginning with the after-effects of "what happens next." Dumbledore's actions (and non-actions) regarding Hogwarts will be a major focus along with Harry's upbringing...

Anywho, that won't come in until a few chapters or so...

Bold = quote from Chapter 8 of the Philospher's Stone by JK Rowling

In which Hermione spouts some facts, my Slytherin girls make a move, Snape is an asshole, there is flashbacking, Fang exists, newspapers are interesting, canon!plot-points show up, I fail at Hagrid's accent, Rita Skeeter smirks, and I give an interpretation of a little bit of how I think the Fidelius works.

* * *

><p><em>Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road<br>Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go  
>So make the best of this test, and don't ask why<br>It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time _

_ -Good Riddance (Time of your Life) by Green Day_

* * *

><p>Harry Potter had been at Hogwarts for around a week now and had come to the conclusion that it was easily the most wondrous place in the world (Of course, he also decided it was likely he came to a similar conclusion the <em>last<em> time around.). Hermione was currently spouting off facts as the three wondered around Hogwarts for a more secure place to meet for any discussions of the future.

"There is a hundred and forty-two staircases. Some of them lead different places on Fridays; some have vanishing steps..," she start off with as they were walking up a set.

Or "Some of the doors don't open unless you ask politely, you know?" when the trio ran into a wall pretending to be a door. They had already found the Owlery early this morning before classes when Harry had sent a letter off to kind ol' Mrs. Figg. Earlier that week Harry and Neville had been found tugging on the "Forbidden Door," as many had dubbed it, by Mr. Filch. They had been saved by the passing-by of Professor Quirrel. Something which Harry found both odd and deja vu inducing.

When they passed by the entrance to the dungeons all three shivered in unison and remembered their very recent Double Potions with Slytherin...

_Hermione was brimming with excitement. Potions! Something that might just work logically. Maybe it was like Chemistry; they'd likely learn how each of the ingredients reacted to each other. Maybe their was even a Table of Common Ingredients she could study! Oh what marvelous things were likely to be awaiting her!_

_ As the other students seemed to be whispering with horror, she showed only excitement. Sure she hadn't heard the greatest things about the Professor, but he couldn't be that bad could he?_

_ She was about to find out just how wrong she was._

_ Harry had gotten a letter from Hagrid inviting him down, which was something they had already planned to do. She idly wondered what they'd talk about when they got there as she and the rest of the Gryffindor first-years descended down into the dungeon. She stepped one foot into the potions classroom and expectations began to crumble. All long the walls were pickled animals floating in glass_ _jars. What in the name of all things sane were those used for? She shook her head slightly. Maybe they were just better preserved that way. She'd look it up later._

_ She slipped into a seat at a table behind Harry and Neville, and smiled politely at the girl who sat down beside her. Before quickly blinking in shock. It wasn't just any girl who had sat beside her, but a Slytherin. _

_ "Sophie is it?" She asks voice low. The other girl nods just as Professor Snape swoops in to the classroom. It's all she can do not to giggle. She quietly tears off a piece of parchment from the corner of the roll she's using for notes. _

He's like a bat, isn't he?_ She scrawls down the short message and pushes it towards her partner_ _for the day. Her amusement ratchets up a notch as the Slytherin girl fights back a giggle too. Hermione turns her attention back to the professor as he begins roll call. _

_ "Davis, Tracey."_

_ "Present."_

_ Hermione finds herself very close to whipping around in surprise. The voice is clearly coming from the table behind her. Two Slytherins sitting near a Gryffindor? Preposterous. The rest of the class, on the other hand, has no qualms about turning to see where she is. The small gasps from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor sides of the room only serve to make the situation hilarious._

_ She idly notes Sophie's reply of _Yes, he is!_ on the parchment and proceeds to write another comment,_ Professor looks a little constipated doesn't he?

_ Really, though, Hermione couldn't think of any other way to describe the expression. The class quickly turns around as the professor continues roll-call. Of course, they didn't stay turned around. _

_ "Greengrass, Daphne."_

_ "Present." _

_ Again the class whips around to find Greengrass calmly sitting beside Davis. (Hermione wasn't quite sure how they hadn't noticed her the first time.) _

_ This time Professor Snape doesn't give them time to gape and continues on, quickly stopping at, "Granger, Hermione."_

_ Continuing with the established pattern, she simply replies, "Present." On it goes down the list, names being called and then answered. Until the professor himself breaks the pattern._

_**"Ah, yes," **__he says softly, __**"Harry Potter. Our new – **_**celebrity**_**."**_

_He doesn't give Harry the chance to reply and continues on with, "Roper, Sophie."_

_ The girl beside replies with a simple, "Present," like all the others. Professor Snape quickly finishes the roll and puts it away. Hermione leans forward eagerly, just ready to learn whatever knowledge may be imparted._

_**"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," **__he begins, __**"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." **__Silence reigns supreme after the professor's opening speech. Hermione's opinion on it is simply that it had been perfectly good until the last sentence._

_ Sophie slips her back the note,_ Think he tells that to every first year class?

_ Hermione grins a little and passes back,_ Absolutely. Probably practices it in front of a mirror too._ If it had been any other class, they would have burst into giggles. Of course, if it had been any other class they're comments wouldn't have went like this, would they?_

_ Their attention was pulled back to Professor Snape when he suddenly shouts, **"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood."**_

_** "I don't know, sir," **__Harry replies. Hermione gets a little upset; that question was nowhere near_ _the average knowledge of a second year. Beside her, Sophie glares at the professor. A little bit of surprise replaces some of the upset-ness. _

_ Professor Snape sneers, **"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." **Hermione gets the sudden urge to throw something at the man. Preferably her pewter cauldron. Clearly, this man isn't the sort of man you'd want to teaching kids. Harry's only been in his class for a handful of minutes and hasn't even done anything qualifying as spoiled in the whole time she's known him!_

_ **"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfs-bane?"**_

_This question at least is technically first-year knowledge, if you disregard that's in the very back of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

_"Nothing, sir. They're the same plant and also go by aconite."_

_ Snape glares, "Actually managed to crack open a book did you, Potter? A point from Gryffindor for not keeping it open long enough to actually learn something." Harry and Neville look at each other incredulously. Hermione, on the other hand, is outraged. This class she has a feeling is not going to end well.._

That class was a disaster. Seamus and Dean managed to melt their cauldron into a pile of goop, but at least no one was seriously injured, just a few minor burns. Neville knew exactly what would have happened if it had been _him _partnered with Seamus. He did not particularly fancy being covered with boils. He was still concerned over the fact the professor had simply sat there and _watched_ Dean and Seamus botch their potion.

They were nearing the entrance doors, which brought up a much happier memory...

_Harry was excited. They were going to go visit Hagrid. He wasn't quite sure why the big man had decided to invite them down for tea. Either way, he'd be happy to strike up a friendship again. The three of them troop down to Hagrid's hut and knock on the door._

_ A shout of "Fang, back!" followed by the some barks echo from inside. Hagrid let them in moments after._

_ "It's nice ta meet ya Harry. Knew your parents, I did. One of the best witch and wizard I ever met."_

_ Harry smiles "Thank you, it's always great to learn a little about my parents. This is Hermione and Neville."_

_ "Aye, he's the one that lost 'is toad isn't he? Frank and Alice's kid?" Neville nods. "Tell ya what, I'll trade stories about both o' yer parents for stories about yer first week a school. An' I guess I'll just have to owe you 'Ermione..."_

_ What follows is an hour or two of storytelling, tea, and pretending to like Hagrid's rock cakes. It's as their visit is winding down that Harry notices something sticking out from under the sofa they're sitting on. He pulls it out to find that it's a part of a newspaper. It's not the article about the break-in at Gringotts that really catches his eye. (Although it does bring to surface a future/past memory about Hagrid removing a grubby little package from Gringotts...)_

_ It's the article on the flipside of the paper that really pulls his attention. Albus Dumbledore: The True Story? Discretely he manages to fold the paper small enough to fit into his pocket. They finish up at Hagrid's and say they're goodbyes moments later. On the way back to the castle he puls it out of his pocket._

_ "Look at this!" Hermione snatches it out of his hand before he can say anymore. She quickly scans the article._

_ "It's part of a series!" She excalaims excitedly, "Who do you think might have a copy of the rest?" She hands it over to Neville to read as she waits for a reply._

_ "What about those Slytherin girls you were siting with? This certainly falls under the sort of information that any Slytherin worth their badge would want."_

_ Hermione blinks, "Why would they share with us?"_

_ Suprisingly, Neville is the one to reply, "Harry, obviously. Any association with him could eventually do wonders for your career. Harry's the hero to the people of the Wizarding World. The only survivor of an event that saved most of their lives."_

Hermione led the group back around to wards the stairs to the second spouting off some fact about where the bricks in the castle came from they were all set to take a short cut that they had discovered earlier that lead straight to the Great Hall when they came across three girls in green with a stack of newspapers between them...

Hermione decided that they had the best luck _ever_.

* * *

><p>Rita Skeeter was on the hunt again. This time there would be no people to question though, just a house to dig through. She had to finish this expose on Dumbledore right. The boss was thinking of promoting her to investigative journalism department permanently. While she's no longer have as much liberty with the facts, the pay raise was <em>far<em> more than worth. It was this effort to finish this right that lead her to Godric's Hollow.

What most people didn't realize and what the government was continually trying to keep hidden for fear of vigilantes was that investigative spells were a easier than a _Wingardium Leviosa_! It didn't take some specialist from the Ministry to figure what happened in a place and who was there. Which was why her first stop was the Potter House. At the time, the Fidelius charm hadn't had has many fail safes and was on the whole less advanced. The Secret Keeper literally had to be present at the location to give away the secret. They had been able to discern from Death Eater sources that a man of unknown description had rushed into their "Lord's" chambers on the night before Halloween shouting that he was the Potter's Secret Keeper.

Why no one had ever thought to check the magical signatures of the place before, she had not the slightest ides, but it would make her extremely happy if she got unveil some sort of scandal. The chances of tha-

Rita froze as the results from the spell appeared. Sirius Black hadn't shown up until _hours_ after the fight. There was someone name Tom Riddle who cast the Killing Curse three times (Voldemort, she assumed.), and there was the only person who could have been secret keep er according to her spell. Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin-whateverclass, hero, deceased. Holy Shit.

At the moments Rita's expression could be described as bug underneath a fly swatter. Then an idea, what a perfect excuse to sneak into the Ministry. Not to mention, she could find out where Potter'd been all these years and investigate there too. Her horrorstruck slowly changed into a smirk. Oh this, this was brilliant. Best thing to ever happen too, easily a career maker. She could take this story and few more good ones and quickly find herself at the top of the ladder in a few years.

Some people claim that you can see dollar signs appear in people's eyes when they've got an idea for a plan that will make 'em rich. This is one of those times.

* * *

><p>AN: Oh Rita... And that is another chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! Also longest chapter <em>ever<em>, I do believe.


	16. Extra! Extra!

Extra! Extra!

AN: In response to Red Phoenix Dragon's latest review, I'd like to say thank you for reviewing with actual questions. Regarding your question about Snape, I do have planned for Rita to take a close look at Hogwarts. It's actually been planned for awhile, but probably won't take place until more of a Chamber of Secrets time. As for any monitoring charms and your first Rita related question, Rita was looking at a snapshot of time basically.

Her spell shows what magic was being casted, by whom, and who was there for a specified date. Go too far back and the magical signatures get muddled. Of course, too far is relative to the area and how often it's used. The preservation of the area by the Ministry of Magic preserved the signature and bits of magic left behind. It's like how skin is constantly flaking off; magic is constantly leaking. If it wasn't for Harry having lived there too, Rita could have been able to go back farther and detect who casted the Fidelius, but children under eleven have accidental magic and leak more magic than their elder counterparts.

The Fidelius, I have always assumed, had been cast between December '80 and August '81. Mostly because of the whole switching Secret Keepers thing. Of course if Rita steals some advanced time-turner or Fate/Time get decide to get answers, anything could happen. Now that I've loaded this Author's note with all my theories and things...

This was meant to have been posted/written in late February, but track season started and bleeergh... I'm slower than I was and need to practice hurdles, long jump, and high jump. Joy... Not to mention my ideas in general have been artsy rather than write-y lately...

In which the Editor of Prophet gets his 15 minutes and Rita goes a snooping.

'_thoughts_'

* * *

><p>Barnabas Cuffe was an... <em>interesting <em>man. He cared about being published, about sales, and readership. He couldn't care less about being 'accurate and reliable'. However lately, he'd found that people were once again wanting accuracy. Witch Weekly was plummeting in sales, and the Quibbler was ticking up. (He wasn't too surprised. It always seemed to circulate around times like these that if you looked close enough you could find truth hidden amid the nonsense.)

The Prophet's investigative department wasn't much of one but quickly filled up during times when facts were actually wanted. It was a proven fact that people preferred lies; he just had to find the study. Of course that also made it the department that would put you on the fast track to future editor, and Rita... Dear Rita...

Cuffe smirked and managed to look remarkably like a shark. She'd make a wonderful successor when he was ready to retire to a nice tropical island away from the rest of the world. All she had to do was get through this expose on Dumbledore with the facts and just the facts. Normally he would prefer the truth to be stretched, but... His parents always tried to tell him that the truth was stranger than fiction, and for once in their miserable lives they were right.

This was the major reason he'd assigned the Fire girl to this. Her real name was something with a B; he didn't really know or care. She had done a wonderful job of keeping Rita to the facts. She was a miracle when it came to proof-reading... Cuffe picked up his cigar from earlier and began to chew on it. His train of thought abruptly crashed as Dumbledore came bursting through his doorway.

He leaned back in his chair and discretely spelled on a recording charm; this promised to be interesting.

* * *

><p>Rita eyed the door to the main records room of the Ministry. It was only another minute until the clerk was off the clock. '<em>Thirty seconds, twenty, where the hell was the clerk? Ten, nine, eight, <em>_seven, what was he waiting for... Four, three, two and...' _The clerk finally left. '_One.'_

Rita flew through the slowly closing door, taking care not to catch her antennae in anything. If a beetle could smirk, she would have as she watched the door shut with a click. Moments later, she was smoothing the wrinkles out of her lime green dress. There were rows and rows of shelves of scrolls to go through, or she could check the register.

Rita mused on what to look up first. '_Black's trial or the current residence of their missing icon. Scandal, scandal, which to choose?' _Rita eyed the book before her. _Alphabetical order, eh? _She quickly flipped to the B's. A few pages in she found the entry for it. '_No location listed? Sh-'_ Listed as the last person to check out was a very familiar name to Ms. Skeeter. '_Looks like there's a chat with Madame Bones in my future.' _Rita's smirk grew impossibly wider. Then again, nothing is impossible, just highly improbable. A saying that had just shot ahead in the race to become the phrase that Rita Skeeter was to live by.

Rita flipped the book on ahead to the P's, glad it only contained entries from more recent years. She quickly skimmed over entries with only the last few entries bearing any import. '_Potter, Charlus,Death of... Potter, James and Potter, Lily, Death of... Potter, Harry, Placement of... Por-' _Rita quickly scrawled down the location of her new jackpot onto a scrap of paper that was quickly shoved into her ever-present handbag.

With a thought, small beetle was once again in the air. It was a few harrowing minutes before she reached her destination. Later, when questioned by Fire, she would remark nothing other than that it involved a falling book, a few feathers, a stack of parchment, and what she was fairly sure was a muggle explosive. Not that any of that is of any particular relevance.

Another transformation and a muttered expletive later, Rita was staring at rather..._enormous_ section of the records. Considering the length of time _the_ Potter family had been around, and the rather disproportionate number of people named Potter in general in the wizarding world. Really, you would think they were like the Weasleys... Rita shook her head; it was probably from the muggle world. A girl she had used to keep in touch in with had mentioned something about actually being common... Rita returned to the business of searching through the mounds and mounds of parchment and files. (Really, she was extremely glad someone had invented these folder-things; they were quite useful.)

The glint of something shiny attracted her attention at the back of the shelf. From her position on the floor, it was clearly visible. However, it was obvious that if she stood up she would never have noticed it. '_Oooh, clever!' _She shoved various stacks of parchment and things out of her way in an effort to get closer to the shiny. Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a rune made of a silver affixed to the backing. She reached out and hooked a fingernail underneath the edge of the rune. It came off with a surprising ease.

Rita was surrounded by light and remembered why she had never wanted to be a curse breaker. A few seconds later as she was still blinking back her vision, she reached forward again and fell.

"Whaaaaaaaaaat?" she screamed as fell... and abruptly landed on her stomach. She was halfway out of the shelving and halfway inside. The rune had apparently hidden a small space-expanded area.

She reached up a hand to attempt to fix her hair as she observed the room around her. There were quite a few files and stacks of parchment, but three things tuck out at her: the name Potter, the name Riddle, and a tingle of magic that alerted her to the fact she had set off an alarm. She reached for a folder conveniently labeled Harry's Residence. A quick-shrinking charm and stuff into a secret pocket later, she quickly crawls out of the space...

...and comes face to with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.


	17. Chapter 17

**_I'm currently going through and rewriting chapters. The first four have been rewritten and five is on the way. Please check out the changes so far and tell me what you think. Thanks whether you're still reading or just started! _**

**_~Writ-in-Fire-and-Ice~_**


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